


Absolute Risk

by MAVEfm



Series: Radiation Point [2]
Category: All Time Low, Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Autism, Battery City, Better Living Industries, Blood, Drugs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Graphic Description, Mental Health Issues, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 74,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAVEfm/pseuds/MAVEfm
Summary: At last! Another victory for Better Living Industries and our hard working exterminators out in the desert, working hard to take down the threat of Killjoys and Rebels who want to make things difficult for you, the loyal citizens of Battery City, to have a more perfect, monochromatic life.A dangerous cult leader, known only in Killjoy circles as Mr. Brightside, has been brought to justice! Please, take this time to thank a local exterminator for their hard work.*This message is brought to you by the Better Living Department of Communications, who would like to remind you to remember to smile today! More information on the triumph of Better Living Industries can be found in the previous installment: Radiation Point, and it is recommended before reading Absolute Risk





	1. Prologue

 

_ Good Morning, Loves! What a messy week it has been! _

 

_ Many Zone Rats ask me: Gogo, what do you do when you’re not on the air? _

 

_ So I tell them! Collection factoids for you and your misinformed crew! I’m always chasing a story motorbabies, finding the truth in a world of Better Living phonies! And loves, this week is filled to the brim with falsities, I’m ashamed I’ve been gone so long, but a break is a break and I deserved it! My girl and I went on a round trip of the zones! So much beautiful sand and cacti to see and joshua trees to  _ do it  _ under! _

 

_ But really loves, what has happened to our sandy home? Has everyone gone completely mad? Cults and massacres and killjoys with glowing eyes? Really! _

 

_ I suppose we have that dreadful massacre to blame, that’s what brought the ugly cult of Brightside to truly surface and rear it’s ugly head. In this past week they have made many moves to move forward with their disgusting plan to burn bodies and create hysteria, until it all ended at Hyper Thrust only a day ago.  _

 

_ Now loves, this is the part where it goes Polka-Dotty… Now we know the big players: Young Vein and Mona Lisa, two fourths of the Danger Blues, Sixx, the adorable loner from Zone 5, and that new Crash Queen, Secret Lover, and even Baby Snake from the Shithole! _

 

_ God I love that place… they have the only working pinball machine in the entire world right now… _

 

_ Of course the only two we don’t know are the one in red, and the supposed: ‘goldeneyes killjoy’- _

 

_ …  _

 

_ … _

 

_ Show Pony! Wonderful of you to drop by! Got anything to say to the lovelies? _

 

_ Uh, yeah, I know that red ‘joy… That’s Horseshoe Crab, he was one of my uh, what’s the word? Delivery Guy? Yeah, delivery guys! Hope he’s hearing this! You rock, you little boy toy! _

 

_ Well there it is! An answer! Do you, by any chance, know the ‘goldeneyes’ everyone is going on about? _

 

_ Nuh-huh, but I have this for you. _

 

_ Oh! Oh… Chimp! You rascal! I love you, you bitch! _

  
  


_ What’s that light? _

 

_ A caller! Hello? _

 

_ :: Uh yeah! Hi! :: _

 

_ What’s your name love? _

 

_ :: Uh, Keegan! :: _

 

_ What are you calling for Keegan? _

 

_ :: Um, I met the goldeneyes at Hyper Thrust! I talked to him, his name was… well I can’t remember his name but he was hot! :: _

 

_ Uh-huh, can you tell me anything about him? _

 

_ :: Uh, he said he was a doctor! :: _

 

_ Uh-huh… _

 

_ :: And, and uh,  he didn’t actually have gold eyes! :: _

 

_ … Really? _

 

_ :: Yeah! They weren’t gold until later that night! They glowed! :: _

 

_ Interesting! Oh, hold on, I’m getting another caller! Hello? _

 

_ :: Yeah, this is bullshit. :: _

 

_ Excuse me, would you mind- _

 

_ :: Better Living was there that night, I saw them! They stole that stupid fucking cult leader, right from under us! We didn’t get justice! Why aren’t you saying anything about that? Or the fact that Fun Ghoul, who we ALL know is an ex exterminator was there too? Why are you avoiding that? :: _

 

_ Well, the fact Better Living was there is common knowledge, and does it really matter if The Fun Ghoul was a former exterminator? He is on our side! _

 

_ Wait, I think I know that voice- _

 

_ :: So what?! He could still be here for BLi! Why do you always chase gossip when there are more important things to go after? Or are you just here to talk pretty for your queen and country? :: _

 

_ Well! I hardly think it necessary to insult my home! Long live the queen you piece of shit! How dare you tell me how to do my job! _

 

_ I do know that voice! _

 

_ :: Whatever, screwhead!-:: _

 

_ I do know that voice! _

 

_ Show Pony! Do you really think it’s necessary to steal the-! _

 

_ Val Velocity? Is that you you piece of shit? Aren’t you like twelve? _

 

_ :: I’m thirteen! And I’m just trying to tell your friend she should be looking at REAL issues! Not the gossip about some ‘goldeneyes’ crap! :: _

 

_ Why don’t you go back to chasing those rumors about the Snake Worshipers?! _

 

_ :: It’s all true Pony! You just don’t want to see it- :: _

  
Show Pony slammed the phone back onto the receiver. 

 


	2. Headfirst

_ “You need to spend time crawling alone through shadows to truly appreciate what it is to stand in the sun.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Shaun Hick _

 

He wakes, gasping for breath, facedown in the sand. His face stung from the small rocks digging into his flesh, and his side was sticky with blood that soaked into his shirt and flowed outward. 

 

He pushed himself onto his back and coughed up more blood. His voice was rasping as he spoke: “Oh fuck…” He coughed up more blood and stared up at the bright, almost white sky above, that contrasted heavily with the orange sand around him.

 

Pete Wentz was dying.

 

“Wait…” He tried lifting his head, “Wait…” He had been shot in front of the Shithole, he remembered, so where is it? Where was the dead and dying grass, or the ugly lawn ornaments, laying on their sides or stabbed through the legs to keep them upright?

 

_ Hadn’t it been raining? _

 

Now there was nothing around for miles except sand, sand that stuck to his bloody stomach and scratched his wound and he couldn’t  _ breath. _

 

Was this what it felt like when blood fills your lungs? Or was it something else, something worse? He writhed, gasping and pulling for air that barely came until a shuffling came from his right, the sound of sand being shifted and moved. Pete turned his head, balling his fists and grasping at sand.

 

To his right, the sand shifted. Flowing in wisping patterns from a singular point, then upward, building a thin figure as shadows stretch and distorted around Pete’s body, making him feel cold and sick and the bright white sky turned dark and cloudy. The world around him twisted and turned and the figure made of sand hardened into shadow until color appeared like ink in water, curling and filling the space, until an ugly smile appeared, painted and fake, yet real and gruesome and terrifying.

 

He remembers the smile, painted on Luke’s face as he rode next to the truck on his motorcycle, sending Pete flying into the dashboard, bloodying his face and nose and sending Andy to the ground, still fighting for his life.

 

Then the face became whole, pale and stoic, the eyes dark and bottomless. A cape of shadow flowed behind the figure like fog, stretching over the entire landscape and brushing against Pete, cold and hot all at once.

 

Pete sucked in a rattling breath, “Who-” The figure put one finger to his lips and Pete was silenced.

 

The figure examined him with an almost confused expression, that settled over his face like a ghost, tilting his head to the right, then to the left, and Pete realized with wide eyes, the figure was himself.

 

He could see it, past the paint and wild hair.

 

He tried to speak again, “You-”

 

**_yes_ **

 

The figure’s voice rang, disembodied, through the space, his mouth didn’t open.

 

**_your friend made the same mistake_ **

 

His head tilted.

 

**_but I am not you, Pete_ **

 

“The,” Pete stretch his diaphragm for more air, “The Sandman.”

 

**_yes_ **

 

“Am I-” Pete touched his stomach where the blood and sand was stuck, “Dead?”

 

**_no, you wouldn’t be hurting if you were_ **

 

Suddenly he was standing, placed in front of The Sandman as if by magic. He gasped and stumbled forward, grabbing onto the Sandman’s shoulders for support as his knees buckled. The Sandman did nothing, but simply let Pete hang, gasping for air and throbbing from pain.

 

**_you have my face_ **

 

Pete looked up at him, shaking his head, “I don’t-”

 

**_no, you don’t_ **

 

He wheezed and tried to straighten himself, locking his knees as he brought a hand down to touch his wound, “What…”

 

**_a stolen gun, trying to save your friend, but why do you have my face?_ **

 

The Sandman tilted his head again, and Pete looked up to stare at him, “Please, I don’t-” He gasped and his knees buckled again, this time sending him to the ground, “I can’t--  _ breath.” _

 

**_yes I understand, that is why you are here_ **

 

The Sandman knelt before Pete.

 

**_normally the phoenix witch would come, but I am not finished, and neither are you_ **

 

Placing his hands over the wound, The Sandman finally opened his mouth. No words were spoken, and if they were, Pete couldn’t hear them, as a thundering sound came from the sky. It made the ground vibrate and his hair stand on end. 

 

Sand lifted from the ground beneath him, swirling in the wind and around the Sandman, down his arms and between his fingers to Pete’s bloody stomach.  ****

 

**_you should be dead, that is why you are here, your path was blessed with water by my followers, and with healing…_ **

 

**_but there is something else, that is why I have decided to let you live, something bigger_ **

 

He removes his hands and Pete’s lungs filled with air, sand crept up his body like ants, filling the wound and making it sting and itch.

 

**_we are not done, Pete, we are far from done_ **

 

He stood as if to leave, and Pete grabbed his leg, “Wait,” He gasped, “You said… healing… did you.. _.Andy. _ ”

 

**_yes, but you must find him, he is strong, but without you or his friends…_ **

 

The Sandman looked away.

 

**_they are looking for you_ **

 

Then in the second it took Pete to blink, he was thrown into the waking world, gasping for breath as if he was surfacing from underwater, facedown in the sand. He pushed himself up, regaining his bearings and stumbling forward as the world tipped sideways. He coughed, sand in his throat.

 

The sky remained dark, still gray and cloudy from before, but no rain fell.

 

“Card!” A call from inside the Shithole, Glass’ rasping voice. He trips forward, coughing salt from his lungs, scratching the sides of his throat and stinging his cheeks.

 

“Card where are you?” The Green Man yelled, slurring his words together as an effect of the two hits to his head. Pete winced.

 

“I…” He weakly raised his hand in a wave, “I’m here…” The screen door swung open and Glass stepped out, the side of face bruised and bloody, mixing with the red burns on his face.

 

“Card!” Glass stepped forward, “We can’t find Brobeck and- oh my god!” His attention was diverted to the blood soaking into Pete’s shirt, “Are you… What happened?” With his friends injured and halfway to death, Glass seemed somehow more awake, his shoulders back, and even his voice less rasping. He took Pete by the shoulders and sat him down at the kitchen table next to The Green Man, who swayed and slumped in his seat, woozy and out of balance.

 

Glass peeled back Pete’s shirt and hurriedly washed it with a small bottle of water in the cooler, then handed the rest to Green Man who could barely lift it to his lips. “What happened?”

 

“Disashi,” Pete blinked, “Stole Green’s gun and… it’s out there, he dropped it but…”

 

“But Andy,” Glass nodded, his jaw set, “Oh wow, from all the blood I thought… I thought he had blown a hole in your side,” Pete looked down at his stomach, where an ugly burn reached across his abdomen, and an ugly cut traced it’s way downward. “It’s like he just caught you in the side…”

 

Pete frowned, “But… I remember he… He caught me, it felt like I was being ripped in two…”

 

Glass looked up at him, “Maybe it’s the small cuts that hurt the most?” His eyes seemed milky, like he had caught some radiation in the short time he had stepped outside, but it disappeared as soon as it had come, and Glass blinked, “We have to wrap it… I’m pretty good with burns, but I don’t know if I should stitch this or not…”

 

The Green Man lurched in his seat, “Andy!” He turned to Pete, rocking side to side and squeezing the water bottle in his fist, “What did he-”

 

“He’s gone,” Pete looked him in the eye, “Disashi tricked us.” The Green Man slumped in his seat, blinking rapidly.

 

“But… why?”

 

Glass shook his head and stood, “Brobeck is gone too, I thought Disashi had just taken him like he did with you, and he would turn up but… he’s nowhere.”

 

The Green Man stared ahead, his expression blank, “But why? Why would he just take Andy?”

 

Glass left the kitchen in silence, avoiding the subject.

 

“Where would he take him?” Pete asked, trying to reason that the if they couldn’t answer the  _ why,  _ they could answer the  _ where,  _ which had to be more pressing. “It makes no sense, he was on our side, he even told us where Brightside was-” He stopped, “He… He asked about The Cobra…”

 

“The smuggler?” Green Man twisted his face.

 

“Yeah, he said… He said they came from the same place, he was looking for him…”

 

Green Man blinked and rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off another headache, “What if he… What if he didn’t leave? Maybe Disashi was still,” He struggled to find the words, “Still a part of the group he talked about?”

 

Outside, the dark skies faded to a dull gray, casting shadows on The Green Man’s face, making him look old and tired, Pete wondered if he looked like that too.

 

Exhausted, his side ached and stung and Glass returned, clutching a ball of gauze, the blood on his face had been washed away. He too, looked ten years older, the burns seemed to fade and he wrapped Pete’s abdomen with little assistance. “I’m not good at this,” He sounded quiet like before, rasping and shy, “Maybe if Dr.Benzedrine gets back he could…”

 

If.

 

“I still haven’t seen Brobeck,” Glass sat on the floor, crossing his legs and slouching, picking at his fingernails, “I don’t understand… any of this.” He shook his head and whispered hoarsely: “ _ Disappeared.” _

 

The Green Man stood, swayed, and steadied himself, “Let’s look, just one last time, he might not have heard you.”

 

“I don’t think you should be walking around,” Pete looked up at him and he shook his head.

 

“I know, I’ll rest as soon as I can, but we have to do something,” He gestured to Glass, barely listening, as he moved from picking at his fingernails, to the skin around them.

 

Pete felt as if the entire world had decided to rest on his back, aching and eating away at his flesh and his mind, his tattoos scratched and his side throbbed. He took a deep breath, shuddering and stinging, and stood, leaning over to grab Glass by the shoulder, “Let’s look, one last time.”

 

* * *

 

 

The light faded as they searched, calling Brobeck’s name until it became too dark to distinguish human from the piles upon piles of junk that filled the Shithole with ghostly figures, and in a final show of desperation, Glass yelled into the desert a heartbreaking rasp of a yell for :  _ “DALLON!” _

 

His voice cracked and Pete nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

 

He curled up on a dusty quilt filled with moth holes near the black and red bass, his head resting near the broken clarinet. The dusty ray-gun he had gotten from Suarez sat nearby, falling apart and barely holding it’s charge.

 

Glass had finally slumped onto the kitchen table, slouching in his chair and trying to keep watch until he finally drifted off into an uneasy rest. While The Green Man had gone upstairs, setting a rusty alarm clock to go off every two hours. “So my concussion doesn’t get worse,” He explained, “Like what happened earlier.”

 

Pete nodded and left him alone.

 

His own attempt at sleep was fitful an uneasy, roused by every creak in the wood floor and every groan of the foundation, until he finally settled into a half awake slumber.

 

He found himself in a familiar setting.

 

His mom, her hair messy and her eyes tired, she tapped her foot on the ground and crossed her arms. _ “Peter,” _ She yawned,  _ “What did I tell you?” _

 

He was halfway through the small window in his family’s basement, the white paint chipping and coming off on his jeans. He had come back from a night of wandering the town with his friends, probably tipping trash cans and scaring homeless people.

 

_ “Um… Not to sneak out again?” _

 

His mom sighed,  _ “Just come in Peter, we’ll talk in the morning.” _

 

Then he was at the dining table, his parents were quiet. His father ate his toast and his mother flipped through the newspaper. Pete stared down at his cereal, the milk filled with soggy bits, he couldn’t swallow anymore.

 

_ “So,”  _ His father set down his toast, weighed down with peanut butter and honey,  _ “Pete.” _

 

_ “I know…”  _ Pete rubbed his eyes.

 

_ “I know you know, but you keep doing it,”  _ His mother folded the paper,  _ “It’s getting hard to be mad at you Peter, but I don’t… I don’t want this to be normal, do you even like those boys?” _

 

Shrugging, he said:  _ “We have fun.” _

 

_ “I’m sure you do,”  _ His father nodded,  _ “But you can’t keep doing this, Pete, I don’t want to wake up one morning, turn on the news, and see an unidentified kid got himself killed by trespassing or jaywalking or something.” _

 

_ “I don’t think I would go unidentified,”  _ Pete stirred his cereal with his spoon,  _ “Everyone pretty much knows me.” _

 

_ “Still, Peter,”  _ His mother pleaded,  _ “I know things have been hard for you… And I’m not asking you to stop going out, or stop having fun, but those Better Living people have been really getting serious about security and the rules… I don’t want you to get in trouble with them or…”  _ She trailed off and his father rubbed his face. 

 

They were tired, all three of them.

 

_ “I should really fix that window,”  _ His father sighed, Pete nodded, then shivered, gasping at a sudden pain in his side. He clutched his abdomen and stood, keeling over as his pain doubled, his mother tilted her head. He pulled his hands away to see them sticky with red, it soaked through his shirt and he fell to the floor.

 

_ “Peter?”  _ She asked, standing with his father, reaching out across the table. His vision seemed to vibrate, distorting the images in front of him, stretching and pushing and pulling and his parents merged to form a single entity as Pete writhed on the vinyl tile.

 

The table melted into the floor and his parents became Disashi, holding Andy by his throat, suffocating him, tearing at his dirty white polo. Andy whimpered, clawing at Disashi’s arm as he choked. Disashi ignored him, pointing the ray-gun at Pete, his eyes cold and his jaw set, his finger stretched over the trigger.

 

He pulled, a flash of light filled his house as it melted around them and Pete squeezed his eyes shut.

 

The pain faded, and Pete opened his eyes again.

 

Disashi was frozen in place, an ugly half smile decorated his face and he held Andy in a vice grip, his terrified expression frozen in time as he struggled to breath. The strangest sight, came from the ray-gun.

 

It had been fired, it’s blast rocketing from the gun in a flash of lightning, but it had stopped, the beam traveling from the gun and becoming static near the end, hovering in the air and continuing to glow. It lit up the kitchen in a dim, unnatural white light that reflected in both Disashi’s and Andy’s eyes, making it hard to see their pupils.

 

The beam flickered and jumped like a glitch, but it never came close to Pete as he crawled backwards and stood.

 

Disashi’s head began to melt like candle wax, sinking to the floor, and a familiar figure stepped out from behind him.

 

**_your dreams seem to jump around quite a bit_ **

 

The Sandman smiled his gruesome smile and Pete shook his head.

 

“You’re not real,” His voice seemed to echo and jump around the room, he stepped back, but he moved in slow motion, like he was walking through syrup.

 

**_really_ **

 

Then The Sandman was in front of him, too close for comfort, his shadowy cape traveling up the walls of his house, dimming the lights and climbing up Disashi’s melting body, traveling down his arm to the ray-gun, trying to dim the light coming from the beam. But the wisping shadows seemed to hiss and tremble from the contact with the bright light.

 

**_then who,_ **

 

The Sandman reached up with a gloved hand to grip Pete’s throat.

 

**_is responsible, for this?_ **

 

He used his other hand to point to Pete’s abdomen.

 

**_or do you believe in miracles?_ **

 

He squeezed Pete’s throat and Pete coughed, trying to breath, he shook his head,  _ no. _

 

**_no, you don’t, there are no miracles in my desert, Pete Wentz_ **

 

The Sandman hissed his name, and his tongue flicked out to lick his painted lips, his dark eyes were void of pupils.

 

**_I could always undo my mercy…_ **

 

He brought his around Pete’s side, squeezing until his hand began to burn through his shirt, and Pete struggled to get away, shaking his head.  _ No! _

 

**_but then I would lose your debt_ **

 

The Sandman tilted his head and his anger seemed to fade, the burning sensation disappeared and the smile became less gruesome, more fake, like stage makeup, and in a horrifying moment Pete felt as if he was looking in a mirror.

 

**_I am very real, Pete Wentz, do not forget_ **

 

A hot wind whipped through the halls of his house, unsettling The Sandman’s already wild hair and carrying sand with it, turning Disashi and Andy into a teetering sand sculpture that fell to the ground in a heap.

 

**_find Andrew, kill the snake, save your friends, save my desert, then maybe I will return the favor_ **

 

He released his grip on Pete’s throat as the wind picked up, whipping sand around his melting house and stinging his skin like tiny needles, The Sandman stepped back, dissolving into sand. His cape whipped around the room he faded, covering Pete in shadow, until all that remained of The Sandman was his smile.

 

It hovered in the air for a moment, then faded away, and Pete saw nothing but darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

He awoke, blinking, in a warm light that seemed to come from nowhere. It warmed his skin and he squinted, a low voice came from the kitchen, resonating through the Shithole and waking Pete up from his haze.

 

He wrapped the quilt around himself and squinted as he stumbled to the kitchen, expecting to see The Green Man, rubbing his eyes and attempting to make conversation with Glass.

 

Instead, he was met with Baby Snake’s empty stare, The Green Man sat crying in a chair, sniffling, and Glass was silent, staring out the window. Horseshoe Crab leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and staring down at his boots. Young Vein and Mona Lisa were somber, crowding around The Green Man and trying to console him.

 

Pete dropped the blanket, revealing his torn shirt and bandaged side, he whispered: “Shit.”

 

“Card,” Baby Snake pushed his palms into the sides of his head, “Is… Is all this…”

 

“Yeah,” He stepped forward and leaned heavily against the table, “It… We lost control pretty fast.”

 

The Green Man had done his best to summarize, but had been unable to continue once his tears had begun to fall to heavily to control, and Pete did his best to finish, stumbling through a quick list of how things went to shit. He grew quiet when he mentioned Brobeck’s sudden disappearance, and trailed off when he got to his final confrontation with Disashi, and completely skipped his meeting with The Sandman.

 

A heavy shadow crossed over Baby Snake’s face, one that made the whole room darker and reminded Pete of The Sandman’s endless cape.

 

“Where…” Pete swallowed, “Where’s Dr.Benzedrine? Or Secret Lover, and her crew?”

 

He directed this question at Horseshoe, who tightened his crossed arms over his chest. “They found a lead, for the people that destroyed their home, they went after it.”

 

Before Pete could answer, Baby Snake slammed his fist on the table, quickly standing and leaving the kitchen. Glass followed him, along with Young Vein.

 

Mona Lisa and Horseshoe stayed, along with Green Man, whose tears had subsided.

 

The day passed slowly, with Horseshoe examining Pete’s wound and Baby Snake working on his Cherry, whispering to himself and Glass and Young Vein, who nodded and told Mona Lisa.

 

The Green Man wouldn’t listen to Mona Lisa or Young Vein, and became angry, smashing glass trinkets he had found until Baby Snake punched him in the stomach.

 

But Pete was in a fog.

 

A fog so heavy it settled on his shoulders and made it hard to even breath.

 

“We’re not mad, Jon!” Young Vein said, and Pete had eavesdropped, “If you want to go and look, go and fucking look! God knows if this had happened to-” He cut himself off, “You would let me do the same thing.”

 

“We would come with you!” Green Man snapped, “You’re saying you want me to go alone!”

 

“We never knew him, Jon,” Mona Lisa said, “This is your mission, I don’t think we would help much, man.”

 

The Green Man seemed to deflate, “You sound like your mom.”

 

“Because my mom knows everything, man, something is happening, I can feel it, falling into place.”

 

“This isn’t because you have a  _ gift  _ right?” Young Vein asked, “Shit like that doesn’t exist, but yeah, Jon, this is what you want to do, I’m not gonna hold you back, too much shit has gone bad to get mad at eachother.”

 

“Do you at least know where you’re gonna start?” Mona Lisa asked Green Man, who nodded.

 

“I have an idea…”

 

Mona leaned forward, “Go to my mom first, in Zone 2, she can help you.”

 

“Thanks Spence,” The Green Man gave a soft smile, and Pete stepped into sight.

 

“I’m coming with you,”

 

“Card,” Green Man turned in surprise, “Yeah, okay.” Pete had been expecting more resistance, but he nodded in thanks.

 

“Where are we going to start?”

 

“You said Disashi asked about The Cobra, We should find him.”

 

Pete agreed and turned to the rest of the Danger Blues, “What about you guys?”

 

“We’re staying,” Vein answered, “We’re gonna help Baby Snake find Brobeck.”

 

Horseshoe came up to him later, handing him an old t-shirt he had found buried in Brobeck’s collection to replace Pete’s torn one. He helped Pete replace his bandages, then said: “I’m coming with you.”

 

“What?” 

 

“With Dr.Benzedrine gone…” Horseshoe sighed, “I figure I need to keep you in line.”

 

Pete couldn’t help but smile, “I thought you didn’t trust me.”

 

“I’m gonna have to now,” He sat back and returned Pete’s smile, “I need to get my mind off Hyper Thrust, some weird shit went down, and Andy is our friend I guess.”

 

Pete nodded, “For Andy…” Pete looked down the hall to the kitchen, where the Green Man sat with his crew, talking quietly amongst themselves and trying to eat a boiled potato found in a sack in one of the cupboards. “Green Man and I talked… We leave tomorrow at dawn.”

 

_ “You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.”  _

_ ―  _ _ William Faulkner _ __

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got nothing to say, but answering questions brings me inexplicable joy, if you have any.


	3. Sometimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is abuse in this chapter, the emotional kind

 

_“The greater the gap between self perception and reality, the more aggression is unleashed on those who point out the discrepancy.”_

_―_ _Stefan Molyneux_

 

Joe says: _“You should throw it at ‘em.”_

 

Jack looks at the ball in his hands and says: _“But won’t they hurt me?”_

 

Joe smirks, “ _Just stand still, it’ll be like you’re invisible.”_

 

That’s what he did.

 

But one wasp got him, right on his cheek, he scratched and picked so much it left a scar.

 

“My little Jackrabbit how could you do this to your pretty face?” His mother swooned over him and his sister, May, laughed as Joe was yelled at. Joe was sour and his expression was too.

 

 _“You’re such a baby,”_ He hissed, Jack pouted.

 

_“Nuh-uh, you lied to me!”_

 

_“I did not! You were fidgeting!”_

 

_“I don’t fidget!_

 

_“_ _You’re fidgeting right now!”_

 

When the fire came, he stood still.

 

He stood still, if he didn’t fidget, he would be invisible.

 

When he woke, his family was gone.

 

A part of Jack Barakat broke.

 

There was a hole, a half that broke away, and when he woke up, he met a woman.

 

She was old, but not too old, like his mother before the fire had aged her skin into something leathery. She wiped the soot from his face and grabbed his hand and never let go.

 

“Better Living Industries did this to us,” She said, “But people like us are one mind, one body, we take care of each other.”

 

_We are one._

 

He has never been so shaken in his short life.

 

When the woman is taken from him, shot down by men in scary masks as they held each other’s hands, another part of him broke. His mind seemed to shatter, chipping and cracking like the old paint it had become. He escaped, and when he did he felt hollow. He was only half of what he was supposed to be.

 

He was not supposed to be like this.

 

He was meant to be whole, with his family, not broken and begging.

 

Not pleading with the people he meets to make him full.

 

They are already full, he is half a person.

 

He meets a boy.

 

Mark.

 

Mark is sad because his brothers have left, “Left me all alone, they did, and so did your family.”

 

He takes Jack in, who isn’t sure if Jack is actually his name anymore. “What’s your name?” Mark asks in contrast.

 

“I think… it’s Jack?”

 

Mark nods and they are suddenly inseparable. Yet ...Jack… is still half, Mark puts him at a distance that he claws and begs to destroy, it is only because Mark, for all his loss, for all his cracked and chipping paint, he is still a full person.

 

The person ...Jack… was supposed to be.

 

He gets older. Mark meets a girl named Courtney, she’s wild and out of control and Mark finally leaves Jack behind, only to get killed by more men with more masks. Courtney is free to rebel again.

 

Spiraling for control, spinning in and out of who he was supposed to be, ...Jack… loses himself in The Lobby. He is given tattoos he doesn’t want _or does he_ and mistaken for a pornodroid and his hair is dyed and he is still only half.

 

He begs and pleads and screams from the top of his lungs for touch and solidarity and his mind shatters more and more and more and who is he supposed to be without someone by his side, someone to hold and make him full.

 

He is only half a person, not a real one, like Mark was, or Joe, or May, or the woman who always held his hand.

 

When he met someone who held his hand, he never let go, and they ran away.

 

He was still half, who wanted half a person?

 

Who wanted someone so broken and disgusting as half a person?

 

Whole people wanted other whole people, just to make two.

 

...Jack… met Courtney again.

 

She licked her lips and asked him why he was the way he was.

 

He could barely stutter the words: “...only half.”

 

She tilted her head and left him where he stood.

 

How does half a person manage to spiral as if they were full?

 

...Jack… breaks more and more everyday, until Courtney, her and her full self, came back.

 

She was filled with wet paint, the kind that sloshed and dripped over the sides, getting into other people's buckets and mixing their colors. She did not touch ...Jack… for all his chipping and fragile primary colors, she didn’t spill a drop on him. Her fullness stayed full, even as she shared, she tells him stories of a demon, a way to defeat Better Living, as if that can cure a half-person.

 

As if a god could cure a person who wasn’t really a person.

 

Gods are for whole people who are chipped around the edges.

 

But what is there for a Not-Really-a-Person?

 

The Person Jack Was Supposed To Be disappears.

 

He is gone.

 

Courtney forces him onto a truck, bound for the desert, he decides a Half-Person doesn’t fight. What does a Half-Person even fight for? Whole People fought fights, and Half-People…

 

What do Half-People do?

 

A thin man puts him to work, and ...Jack… is afraid of him.

 

For all his halfness, the thin man is empty, a Not-Person, he has no paint, nothing left to chip away but a blank wall that stands still and silent and scares ...Jack… more than any Whole-Person could.

 

He doesn’t want to be a Not-Person, and he decides that be a Half is better than nothing at all.

 

The Man Jack Could Have Been is no more.

 

Because ...Jack... was never that Whole-Person in the first place.

 

His group drives through bad land, a land of rocks and a hot, beating sun.

 

They fight for their lives as people with scales painted on their skin tear them limb from limb. ...Jack… sits still, he doesn’t fidget, like his brother had said, and watches as a snake slithers across the ground in front of him.

 

He is invisible if he stays still.

 

Then he is taken.

 

He asks himself, what would these Whole-People want with a Half-Person?

 

They take his shirt and put ink into his skin, it hurts, another tattoo he doesn’t know if he actually wants. But Half-People don’t fight, they have no right to.

 

The snake they push into his skin go up his arm and across his back, it’s mouth open and it’s teeth bared, beginning to eat his shoulder. Should he like it? Should he be afraid?

 

* * *

 

 

His father keeps him at arm's length from the moment his mother dies.

 

There is no time for them to collect themselves, because his father walks away at a moment’s notice.

 

 _Shouldn’t you be there for me?_ Alex wants to ask, _Shouldn’t we be there for each other?_

 

But Alex is only five, he can’t voice a thought like that.

 

“This is the desert,” His father says, “We can’t cry over someone like that.”

 

But he’s wrong.

 

Alex needs to cry, the tears rest behind his eyes, pushing and pushing, begging for a way out. He never gives them one.

 

Until two days later, he awakens from his dreamless sleep as they race down his cheeks, as if they are afraid he’ll punish them and put them back behind the prison bars that have built themselves in his tear ducts.

 

He follows his father across the desert, his feet ache and his throat is dry. He reaches to wrap his fingers around his father’s calloused palm and is pushed away, when they find water, his father drinks first and Alex fills his jail cell eyes with concrete.

 

He grows older, he gets emptier.

 

His father meets a gang that treats him just the same.

 

Some ignore him, some laugh at his bruised and skinny frame, they mock him when he screws his face into something harsh and refuses to cry. He wakes up early to dry his tears from his dreamless nights. His father remains distant, and Alex is left with a hole in his chest as he begs for a connection.

 

He holds hands with himself, and kisses his cuts to make them better, the way his mother did before her face got blurry and her voice faded from memory.

 

He gets a little older, the hole gets bigger, and his father’s gang is left broken after a roadside fight goes wrong. Alex is blamed, though he stayed in the car, and he is pushed back and forced to walk behind, eating dust and holding back his tears once again.

 

There are tear tracks in the dust on his face when he finally catches up, and his father gives him a look of disgust. He holds onto it, because it is the first time in years that his father actually looks him in the eye.

 

He meets a boy in a marketplace in Zone 1, while his father and his group got hammered in a ramshackle bar that smelled like dirt.

 

The boy has wild, dyed hair and torn clothes, and stands next to Alex as he watches his father get loud and violent on Slam Chasers and Whiskey.

 

“My name’s Dahvie,” He said, trying to look Alex in the eye.

 

He turned away, “...Alex,” a whispered secret on the tip of his tongue.

 

“Yeah, I heard your dad call you earlier,” Dahvie tilted his head and Alex tensed. “I wasn’t following you or anything!” He shakes his head, “But I just… you caught my attention, I mean your dad, he… He ignores you, right?”

 

Alex turned away, shaking his head, “No, he’s just… When my mom died he just-”

 

“Turned away?”

 

“He’s just figuring stuff out-”

 

“How long has he been doing that?”

 

Alex looked back at him, eyes wide , then trailing down to the floor to look at Dahvie’s flared boots in comparison to Alex’s torn and dirty Battery City sneakers. “Listen Alex-”

 

“I should go-”

 

“Wait, Alex-” Dahvie grabbed Alex’s hand and it seemed to burn with his touch, Alex turned back slow as Dahvie removed his hand, his fingers slipping through Alex’s. “I’m with a group… We go from Zone to Zone, and we actually fight for something, against BLi, against the prison of Battery City, we can give you what you need.”

 

“You don’t know what I need,” Alex stares at his hand and Dahvie takes it, slowly, wrapping his fingers around his palm.

 

“Maybe… maybe I do ,Alex,” Dahvie takes his other hand, thinking, and softly places them both around Alex’s. “I was the same, my parents ignored me, they paid attention to my brother and their jobs, that’s how I met my group, they taught me how to fight and believe in something! They gave me the same thing you need, Alex!” He reached one hand around the back of Alex’s neck. His touch seemed to burn and Alex couldn’t pull away. “A connection, a real family!”

 

“Alex!” His father called and Alex flinched, looking back as his father stood from the table, knocking over drinks in his drunken state.

 

“Alex, please, I can get you away from all this-”

 

Alex pulled away, looking to his father as the they left the bar.

 

“ _Alex!”_ His father called again.

 

“I can’t, I’m sorry I-”

 

Dahvie tried to grab him again and Alex ran with he chased after.

 

Dahvie stopped in the doorway as Alex ran to his father calling: “I can help you Alex! Just look! Mr. Brightside can set you free!”

 

Two weeks passed before he heard the name again.

 

His father and their group was paid to transport a truck, filled with white bags with dark smiles printed on the side. The smile made Alex gag and a few of his father's friends laughed and patted him on the back, some of them hit so hard he was sent sprawling to the ground, coughing and spitting.

 

“Mr. Brightside will thank you.” A man smiles from the shadows and Alex feels something cold run it’s way up his spine and settle in his hair, “Why don’t you come in?” The man offers his father, “Have a drink of my mother’s peach tea.”

 

His father accepts, along with his group, and Alex wants to beg him not to go, and he grabs his shoulders until a man in the group, the one with a thin lipped smile and high-pitched laughter pushes him back into the sand. “You’re not allowed kiddo!”

 

The night grows cold as he sits beside the door. Laughing and the clinking of glasses comes from inside, then it calms to a whispered discussion, a low drone that flowed through the thin walls. Someone cracked their knuckles and soft laughter floated in the soft air.

 

There was a pause.

 

An angry cry of disbelief, then a yell, and a disgusting crack that reverberates through the air and sends Alex sprawling through the sand, his lungs vibrating and his heart pounding.

 

The desert was silent.

 

Alex’s breathing was heavy.

 

Then the spell was broken, the door slammed open, and his father’s group ran through, scattering and tripping on the loose ground and running into the desert. Alex stood, waiting for his father to exit.

 

He didn’t.

 

Alex takes a step towards the small shack, his pulse quick as he gazed into the orange light coming from inside the building, flickering and pulsing. His foot makes the wood creak as he steps into the doorway, the ugly man with the shadowy smile sits, his feet on the table, calmly swirling a brown liquid in his glass.

 

At the other end of the table, his back to Alex, as it always was, was his father.

 

His shirt bloody, and his arms spread on the table. His face was blank.

 

The ugly man swallowed, “Well hello!” His smile was filled yellow teeth and his gums were lined with blood. “I’m sorry, was that your daddy?” His smile turned angry, and Alex took a step into the shack, reaching out his hand to touch his father.

 

“Now, now,” The ugly man set his glass down, “This don’t have nothing to do with you… Your daddy just got mean, started to insult me, I don’t stand for insults, so I had to teach him a lesson.”

 

“But you…” Alex sniffed, “You killed him-”

 

“A lesson learned!” The ugly man laughed and the sound bounced off the walls and rang in Alex’s ears, “Now don’t cry, boy… Why, I remember the day my own daddy got himself shot…” He trailed off, staring at Alex.

 

“That day was a dark one, boy…” The ugly man’s voice went dark and low, “Taught me my place in this world, this should teach you yours,” He lifted the gun from under the table, an old Pre-Helium War pistol, and set it on the table, sideways, pointing it at Alex.

 

The barrel was a pitch black hole, seeming to go on forever, but somewhere inside, the mechanism turned and clicked, a sound that raised the hair on the back of Alex’s neck.

 

“This is your place boy,” The ugly man smiled, the shadows under his eyes traveled and his bloody teeth turned to fangs. “Just like your daddy, just like me.” He raised the gun and Alex bolted out the door, breathing heavy as his feet hit the soft ground. They stung, and the shock of each step traveled up his legs to his knees.

 

Another ugly crack filled the night, and something whizzed past his ear, cutting into his flesh and disappearing into the sand. He veered to the right and passed another transport truck trundling through the sand, filled with bodies to burn.

 

His father would join them.

 

He ran. Faster than he ever had.

 

Tears streamed down his face, like they always had.

 

The concrete and bars chipped and cracked and fell away until it seemed as if the tears would never stop.

 

They dripped off his chin and fell behind as he sprinted, sniffling and wiping his eyes to no avail.

 

He awoke alone, chest hurting and stomach empty, under a dune, his face somehow still wet and sticking to the sand.

 

He didn’t know what Zone he was in, he never did, and his face screwed again, ready for tears that could somehow keep falling.

 

They didn’t.

 

He stood, stumbled, and fell.

 

He stood, and walked.

 

There was a moment where the sun beat down just right, and the wind blew just so, that Alex, for one moment, could imagine his father in front of him. His head bowed and his white, dusty shirt gray with sweat. Alex reached, like he had when he was five, for his father’s calloused hand.

 

Then the moment was gone.

 

He awoke again in the back of truck, his head bouncing against the bed of the truck, his ear still bleeding and his mouth dry.

 

He woke up again, this time dragged behind on a sled by a man with painted skin, tanned and thick. “What?” Alex slurred, “Who are..” He was shushed by a woman with frizzy dark hair and a thin nose, she smiled, a mouth filled with thin teeth.

 

He woke again and they took his shirt, the one had worn for three years, so torn and thin it was barely a shirt. They gave him water and potatoes and he almost wanted to cry again. He thanked them, grabbing at their hands and clinging to their arms but they pulled away and led him to a table where they put ink into his skin.

 

He cried again.

 

“So many tears,” An old woman with a needle said, her jewelry jangled and she patted his face with rings on her fingers, “For such a tiny boy.”

 

A snake was put into his skin.

 

One that wrapped around his torso and began to eat his neck, it’s teeth long and it’s tongue whipping from it’s jaw.

 

He hated it.

 

“What are you doing to me?” He asked the old woman, “What do you want with me?” She patted his face again.

 

“Something great will happen,” Her rings and necklaces clinked together, “You will see, tiny boy.”

 

He was taken to a cave, a gated hole in the ground that was lit with torches to keep it warm, it reminded him of the shack, it’s creaking boards and flickering candles. Alex took a step back and the woman pushed him forward.

 

“You’ll get a friend, tiny boy,” She said, her old voice creaking just the same, “He’s so lonely, and you will make good friends.”

 

The final push came and he fell, tumbling down the small incline, and finally meeting eyes another boy.

 

Jack Barakat.

 

They shook hands and never let go.

 

_“Few people when meet first time they feel that meeting each other was the purpose of their life.”_

_―_ _Amit Kalantri_ _,_ _One Bucket of Tears_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick character guide! I might post a directory later...
> 
> Fall Out Boy  
> Patrick Stump- Dr.Benzedrine (formerly Daylight Drug)  
> Pete Wentz- Black Card  
> Joe Trohman- Horseshoe Crab  
> Andy Hurley- Racetraitor
> 
> Panic! at the Disco  
> Brendon Urie- Glass  
> Dallon Weekes- Brobeck  
> Kenneth Harris- Baby Snake  
> Ryan Ross- Young Vein  
> Spencer Smith- The Mona Lisa  
> Jon Walker- The Green Man
> 
> Paramore  
> Hayley Williams- Secret Lover  
> Taylor York- Lightning  
> Jeremy Davis- Crash


	4. Demand

 

 _“Vengeance is a monster of appetite, forever bloodthirsty and never filled.”_  
_― Richelle E. Goodrich, The Tarishe Curse_

 

There were a couple of seconds of just silence, where the one called Dr.Benzedrine only stared up at him. Then, the one all in black, who Josh had heard be called ‘Sixx’, took his arm in one hand and pushed him back with his elbow braced on his chest. Tyler moved to defend him but was quickly stopped, and Jet Star quickly tried to intervene.

 

All around them, club guests crowded and flowed through the exits, probably spooked from Better Living Industries sudden appearance.

 

It almost seemed like Josh was moving through syrup. Not the watery Better Living kind, but the genuine kind not stuffed with drugs, sold in back alley street markets with bootlegged Pre-War DVDs.

 

Josh had once bought some once, he remembered it now at the strangest of times. He had gotten a DVD too. A slightly glitching copy of a movie called Resident Evil.

 

Jet Star broke the spell saying: “Goddamnit Sixx, let him go!” He looked behind them, out a window where the man with the greasy hair, Fun Ghoul, had climbed through. He had stolen a bike from an annoyed partygoer, “Well great, now I’ll never find him again.”

 

Sixx stared at Josh through his matte black mask, his face done up in suspicion and confusion. Tyler stood nearby, unsure how to act, his gaze flitting back and forth between Sixx and Dr.Benzedrine.

 

Jet Star had a hand on Sixx’s arm, trying to vouch for him to no avail.

 

Josh caught Dr.Benzedrine’s eye, who blinked, confused, and watched as a guy with lightning drawn on his mask.

 

Josh wrenched in Sixx’s grip, “Wait-!”

 

The lightning guy said, “We’re just taking you downstairs.”

 

“It was an innocent question!” Josh struggled and Sixx lets him go, finally fed up with having to hold him, “If I don’t deserve answers just tell me!”

 

“You look like the city,” Sixx snarled, “You just show up after Better Living Industries busts in out of nowhere? It doesn’t look good.”

 

Dr.Benzedrine frowned and his friend with large, curled hair whispered in his ear, he nodded and they hugged each other with one arm. The one in red left and Benzedrine hurried over, slapping the lightning guy on the arm, “Let me ask the questions if you’re so suspicious!”

 

Tyler rubbed his arm and Josh rushed over, Jet Star glared at Sixx.

 

“Listen,” Josh looked right at Benzedrine before taking a quick look at Tyler’s arm to make sure he wasn’t injured, “It was just a question okay? We aren’t here for BLi, we’re not even supposed to be out here anyway-”

 

“I’m really sorry,” Benzedrine stressed, “It’s been a really shit day.”

 

Josh could guess that was probably the only way he could have described it.

 

He suddenly remembered that this was the person he had seen tear another apart. Blinding the leader of a cult and getting his knuckles bloody in the process.

 

“Can I just-” Benzedrine looks at Jet Star then at Tyler, “I’m just… I’ll take it from here, okay?” He asks the lighting guy, who gives him a frustrated look then stomps away.

 

“I’m Jet Star,” Jet Star holds out a hand for him to shake, “I met these guys like… a day ago, so the most I know is nothing.”

 

“We’re not even supposed to be out here,” Josh adds, then Tyler interrupts him.

 

“We were tricked.” His voice is quiet and hollow, and Josh frowns, thinking of the barn and the spy fly, he hoped it wasn’t happening again. Josh stepped toward him.

 

“It’s my fault, we were trying to…” He looked at Tyler, his eyes were wide and he shook his head: _No._

 

Benzedrine looked between them, then motioned to the basement stairs, “Why don’t we… get some privacy.” He motioned to the basement, looking tense.

 

Josh hesitated, then agreed, Benzedrine nodded, “Hey, Sixx, you and Lightning get the truck ready, I’ll be right back.” Lighting didn’t seem too happy but stomped out of Hyper Thrust anyway. Sixx tagged along, and soon everyone had vacated the building.

 

The steps down to the basement were ricketier than before, and they seemed to sway with every step. Tyler followed behind Benzedrine closely, and Josh behind him. Jet Star had stayed upstairs, still unsure of what he should do now that his friend with the greasy hair had left.

 

Pawlovich met them at the bottom of the stairs, supporting the DJ, Max, with one arm under his shoulder. He was still slightly delirious and waved happily when he saw Josh and Tyler. “I was gonna take him upstairs,” Pawlovich explained, “You know, get a little sun.”

 

Benzedrine nodded, “Yeah, just look at those bandages after a while, if they soak through you need to change them.”

 

“Of course,” Pawlovich hesitated, “Hey,” He turned back to Benzedrine, “You took out Mr.Brightside, or at least what people thought was Mr.Brightside, I don’t know about my family, but there will be people who will want to come after you, people who are still loyal to him, for revenge.”

 

“I think I would be surprised if something like that didn’t happen,” Benzedrine said, “He has followers in Battery City even, they’re not going down without a fight.”

 

Pawlovich nodded, then stumbled upstairs with Max in tow.

 

The took a seat at one of the tables closest to the stairs, Josh and Tyler on one side, Benzedrine on the other.

 

“So,” Benzedrine leaned forward, “You said Scarecrow Program?”

 

“Yes, what is it? I was told about it before we got out of the city-” He paused, “Do you know Mark Hoppus?” Tyler shot him a look and Benzedrine shook his head.

 

“I’ve never even heard the name, sorry,” Benzedrine answered and Josh deflated, “Did he tell you about the Scarecrow?”

 

“Yeah, he’s the one that led us out here,” Josh looked down at the table, tracing the grooves in the wood with his finger. “But before, we worked at the same factory… He led me to a place in the factory, down a hallway I’ve never seen before, there was this room, really big and dark and… He said they called it the Scarecrow Program like they were making... _people_ in there or something-”

 

“I’ve never heard anything like that,” Dr.Benzedrine was taken aback, “I mean, the Scarecrow has been a ghost for the longest time…” He began to recount his own story, of the destruction of his home and the first appearance of a man called Scarecrow, wearing white and gray and almost glowing in the rain.

 

There was a small part in his story where he stopped, struggling with his words and his own memories, “I… I must have fainted during the fight, when I woke up, everyone was gone, it was like a ghost town, it took me weeks to even see Secret Lover or Sixx again, they didn’t even know I was still alive.”

 

Before Josh could say anything back, Sixx barged down the stairs, leaning on the wall before saying: “We have the truck ready,” Benzedrine nods and stands to follow.

 

“It was good meeting you guys-”

 

“Wait!” Josh stands to interrupt, “We want to come with you.”

 

Tyler stands and faces him, whispering furiously: “What are you doing?”

 

“Tyler,” Josh whispered back, “I’m serious, if the Scarecrow out here has anything to do with the Scarecrow Program, we could have a way to get back into the city, I know it’s a stretch but I need to find out why Mark did this.”

 

“They are not coming,” Sixx argued with Benzedrine before he had even begun to speak. He scoffed.

 

“I didn’t say anything!” Benzedrine countered, “And not everyone we meet has it out for us!”

 

“They come from the city, they just _show up_ when we start talking about Scarecrow, and now you want to take them along?”

 

Josh takes a small step back, prepared to take back his statement, but Benzedrine argues back: “They told me they were tricked, Sixx! If we shut out every coincidence like it’s BLi, we lose any possible lead! They obviously need help-”

 

“This is just like what happened when you started that business!” Sixx raised his voice, “Handing out meds and medical help without even taking a moment to think about the risks!”

 

“When has that ever been an issue?” Benzedrine face was screwed in confusion, “When have you ever taken an issue with my business? I remember you being all for it! You even went on supply runs! I was careful, I have always been careful!”

 

 _“Look how that turned out!”_ Sixx went up a step, making himself taller than he already was, “ _Look at how that turned out Patrick!”_

 

Benzedrine flattened his expression, setting his jaw, he stepped up the stairs and brushed past Sixx angrily, “They’re coming,” He said, “If they want to come, they’re coming, I trust them.”

 

Sixx’s breathing was heavy, and he looked back at Josh and Tyler, blinking angrily before stomping back up the stairs after Benzedrine.

 

* * *

 

 

Jet Star met them when they came back upstairs, “What did you guys _do?”_ He pointed outside, “Sixx is going by himself now to find this Scarecrow, I just met these people and I’m already on their bad side.”

 

“You’re not on our bad side, “ Benzedrine appeared beside him, “I… I don’t know what happened, he wasn’t like this before…”

 

“We don’t have to come,” Tyler finally said, he put his hand on Josh’s shoulder, “I’m sorry this went so bad-”

 

“No, you should come,” Benzedrine stopped him, “We can help each other, even if Sixx wants to be the lone killjoy again… Destroya knows Secret Lover will tear him up about this, she doesn’t know what’s going on with him either.”

 

Josh looked back at Tyler, who removed his hand, “Thank you,” He stuck a hand out for Benzedrine to shake.

 

He paused, then took it, “You guys have names yet?” He asked.

 

“Uh, no,” Josh shook his head, “Not yet.” Benzedrine nodded.

 

“Well, no rush, but my friends will call you Bat Rats until you get some.”

 

“I’ve just been calling them idiots,” said Jet Star. Benzedrine smiled, then motioned behind himself.

 

“The truck is out there, just head out whenever.” He left, walking towards Pawlovich and the DJ, who waved hello when Benzedrine approached.

 

“Hey,” Jet Star faced them, “I’m going after Ghoul, but if you want to contact me you call Dr.Death-Defying’s station, WKiL, I’m always listening so just give me a shout out okay?”

 

“I still don’t get why you’re helping us.” Tyler murmured.

 

“I don’t know either,” Jet answered, “But I was nameless too, once, and no one ever helped me, you guys are lucky you have each other.” Josh met Tyler’s gaze for a second, then turned back to Jet.

 

“Thanks, I guess.”

 

“See you around,” Jet Star tossed them a peace sign on his fingers and left out the door, walking into the desert. Josh and Tyler watched him go, frowning, then followed out the door to the truck.

 

Secret Lover, a tiny girl with a red mask hanging around her neck, met them by the truck and began to steer them away from the doors, “No way guys, Bat Rats ride in the back.”

 

“In the trailer?” Josh squinted at her.

 

“Relax, it’s comfy! Crash and Benzedrine are riding with-” She was interrupted by the sound of a growling engine, and a black motorcycle sped past to the East.

 

Sixx.

 

Secret Lover spits on the sand and raised a finger in his direction, “I can’t believe he chooses now to be a piece of shit,” She sighs, “At least Ben left before he had to see him act like this.” Crash, a killjoy in blue, ran from the house with a bag of supplies and hopped into the driver’s side yelling:

 

“Hurry up! Let’s burn some rubber!”

 

Dr.Benzedrine followed Lightning out after him and Secret Lover smiled and clapped, hurrying around to the passenger side, but not before asking Benzedrine: “Did you talk to Dan?”

 

Benzedrine nodded, “Pawlovich said he would stay here with Max, to say sorry and help him with Hyper Thrust now that he’s injured, and hopefully run the bar now that Big Julie was dusted.”

 

Lightning made his way over and pointed at Josh and Tyler, then at the trailer, “Let’s load up.” He jumped onto the back and into the trailer and Benzedrine came around and copied him, albeit more cautious, then Josh followed, stepping onto the back then looking at Tyler.

 

Tyler hesitated, looking up at Josh, then followed, stepping onto the bike before climbing in, “I trust you, you know that?” Josh gave him a small smile and nodded.

 

“I won’t let you down,” He grabbed Tyler’s shoulder. Lightning groaned.

 

“As heartwarming as this is,” The truck lurched forward and Tyler and Josh stumbled, “You Bat Rats better sit your asses down!” Tyler immediately followed his instructions, but Josh tripped forward and fell on his chest, making Lightning howl and Benzedrine cover his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Josh had woken up on his side when the truck went over a patch of rocks, shaking the vehicle and making his head hit the bed of the truck over and over until he sat up, rubbing his face. Tyler had fallen asleep against the cab, and Dr.Benzedrine and Lightning leaned against each other, snoring softly.

 

Night had fallen, and the sky was a clear, dark blue. But that wasn’t what had caught his attention.

 

Stars.

 

It was impossible.

 

The sky over Battery City was empty, but somehow, miles away, there were stars.

 

Constellations.

 

Cassiopeia, Draco, Hercules.

 

Sagittarius.

 

There was still light pollution, there always would be, but the desert had _stars._ A blanket of light that covered the whole world. He felt ten years old in his backyard again.

 

He laid back down, looking up at the sky, and a quiet whisper sounded: “Josh?”

 

Tyler had woken up.

 

“Yeah,” Josh answered, “Are you okay?”

 

Tyler moved to lay by him, “I don’t know.”

 

Josh looked at him, “Is it the… the thing you told me about?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, “I keep having dreams, and something happened earlier-”

 

“At the barn, I saw.”

 

“I told you the Resort did something to me,” Tyler looked up at the sky, “I just wasn’t sure at first, but now…”

 

“Whatever it is, we’ll fix it,” Josh assured him, “We’ll find Jenna, and we’ll fix this.”

 

Tyler didn’t seem comforted.

 

* * *

 

 

Josh had his own dream that night.

 

It started in the truck, except…

 

He was driving.

 

Fast.

 

Dr.Benzedrine sat in the passenger seat, calm and collected even as he bounced in his seat, unbalanced from the truck going over every bump in the road.

 

 _“Not far now,”_ He said.

 

 _“You say that every ten minutes,”_ Josh spoke, it surprised him because he had nothing to say. He spoke again: _“It’s like the road never ends.”_

 

 _“The road is rough, but we will make it,”_ Dr.Benzedrine braced himself against the dashboard, _“Destroya is with us, she will guide us, and with you here to deliver us, all will go according to plan.”_

 

 _“Deliver you?”_ Josh tried to right the steering wheel, _“Nothing has gone right, where’s Destroya now that everyone is dead?”_

 

_“No one has to die Joshua.”_

 

 _“Didn’t you hear me?”_ Josh yelled the steering wheel had begun to spin out of control, _“Everyone is dead already! There is no hope-”_

 

 _“It doesn’t have to be like this Joshua,”_ Dr.Benzedrine points to the road ahead, _The road will never end as long as there is hope, hope for yourself, for Dr.Benzedrine, for your friends, for Tyler.”_

 

Josh finally braked and the truck skidded to a stop, _“Get out!”_

 

Dr.Benzedrine finally turned to face him, his eyes empty, glowing gold, and when he spoke, glowing embers and smoke poured from his mouth burning Josh’s hands as he tried to bat them away, _“He is my voice, Joshua, I have chosen all of you, but he is my voice, trust us when we say that there is always hope, there will be hope, when you Deliver Us.”_

 

He awoke to gasp for air, smoke still in his lungs and the smell of fire in his nose.

 

“You’re up just in time Bat Rat!” Secret Lover smiled down at him, “Breakfast!”

 

“Breakfast?” Josh mumbled, the dream quickly fading, he tried grasping at it, trying to pull at the drifting bits and pieces.

 

“If you count a can of beans and Acid Rain as a breakfast.” Lightning grumbled, shuffling past and tying a bandana around his frizzing hair. Josh rubbed his eyes and blinked in the sunlight to look at a small collection of ramshackle buildings put together with darkened wood that sagged and split apart in places, and some wood had fallen to the ground and stuck in the ground looking up to the sky like some sort of ironic, dying forest.

 

On one building, a doorway was half sunken into the ground, worn down with every step a person had taken over the threshold.

 

Over the doorway, a flag hung, something faded in red and white, and a blue box of yellowed stars positioned in the lower left corner.

 

Josh climbed out of the truck and stood by Tyler as Crash, Lightning, and Benzedrine as they took a look at the building. “Did Lover already go in?” Crash asked.

 

“Yeah,” Lightning stuffed his hands in his pockets, “The second the truck stopped she went in, came out,  called me a pussy, and went back in.”

 

They made their way inside and Benzedrine followed, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want, I’ll bring you out some beans!” He disappeared through the doorway.

 

If Josh strained his ears enough, he could hear soft guitar music drifting from the walls. It was something he hadn’t heard before, or at least not since he was little. “I’m gonna go check it out.” Tyler nodded.

 

“I can hear music,” Tyler blinked, following, “Like a guitar.”

 

They entered into a bar, made from the same dark wood outside.

 

It was a darkened room, void of windows except for the cracks in the walls that let the sunlight in. Tables and chairs at varying levels of broken were strewn about, some occupied and others dusted over and empty.

 

At the back of the room, a long, chipped and rotting bar with rickety, empty stools lined in a row. Bottles upon bottles of both alcohol and fruit punch lined a back shelf, and the bartender, a black-haired man with tattoos on his hands. He winked at them as they came through the door.

 

The source of the guitar music came from the corner, where a stout man in purple glasses sat on a stool playing a soft tune on an acoustic guitar.

 

Dr. Benzedrine waved them over to a table close to the guitar man.

 

They sat with a thin, dark-skinned man with curled black hair, he smiled slyly and sipped a dark purple liquid from a chipped wine glass. He wore purple, from his shoes to his collar, and the rings on his fingers sparkled in the dim light.

 

“This is The Artist Formerly Known,” Crash introduced him to Josh and Tyler, “He heard about our uh… ‘quest’.”

 

“Please, just call me Artist,” The Artist Formerly Known smiled, “I heard you were looking for the Celluloid Hero, and The Scarecrow.”

 

“Yeah!” Secret Lover tapped her fingers on the table, “Do you know about them?”

 

“Of course,” The Artist took a sip of wine, “Celluloid is a friend of mine, she was the one to free me from prison after the Wars, risking her life to get us all free, to think she was an expert in her field and to go to a rebel in such a short time… Now she’s a real killjoy.”

 

“Expert in her field?” Dr.Benzedrine asked.

 

“Organ transplants, trying to make them safer, or something like that, except…” He paused and swirled his wine, “She told me they were trying to connect organs outside the body, like building it from the inside out and connecting it to a brain, one, she said, another department had been doing electroshock on.”

 

“That must have been what I saw,” Josh said, “What Mark showed me.”

 

Dr.Benzedrine nodded and stopped Lightning before he could ask what Josh meant, “Could you take us to her? We know she’s in the East, in Zone 3, but other than that we’re pretty blank.”

 

“Oh no sorry,” The Artist seemed saddened by this, “But I have plans of my own I need to take care of… But I know someone who knows the way-” He twisted to face the bartender and called: “-Hey, Darkness! Is the kid with the teeth still here?”

 

The bartender, Darkness, said nothing, but instead nodded, and pointed to a dark corner of the bar where a boy with fantastically dyed hair sat. He stood and looked at Darkness, who in turn pointed back at The Artist.

 

He made his way over, the shadows under his eyes dark and his clothes bright, but torn and pulled and dirty. “You rang?” He smiled and Josh suddenly understood why they had called him the kid with the teeth.

 

Every single tooth ad been filed to a point, some were yellowed past saving and his mouth seemed to go on forever, for a moment he kept his gaze on Secret Lover, confused, and Josh suddenly wanted to throw himself in front of her, to keep him from doing anything, like suddenly lunging like a shark might.

 

Then he looked back at The Artist. “What do you need?”

 

The Artist smiled, slightly uncomfortable, “You know your way around the desert… Would you know where to find Celluloid Hero?”

 

“Of course,” He smiled again and Josh could almost feel the entire room grow tense, “Did you call me over for these guys?” He gestured at the group, then faced them, “I’ll lead you anywhere for carbons.”

 

Lightning stood, he seemed to be the only one not put off by the kid, “You’re lucky I have them then, I’m thinking half now half later? We’ll settle on a price outside.”  


“I like the way you think,” He stuck out his hand for the Lightning to shake, smiling wide, “You can call me Dahvie.”

 

_“I can be on guard against my enemies, but God deliver me from my friends!”_

_― Charlotte Brontë , The Letters of Charlotte Brontë_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! For the record, I hate Dahvie Vanity, he's a piece of trash, and his character will not be a good one.


	5. Goodnight

 

_ “Home is people. Not a place. If you go back there after the people are gone, then all you can see is what is not there any more.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Robin Hobb _ _ ,  _ _ Fool's Fate _

 

He takes a moment to gather his current belongings.

 

He taps his fingers on his thigh.

 

He can’t calm down, figures made of shadow seemed to jump at him, even in the harsh light of day.

 

_ Clothes. _

 

He has clothes, he rubs his red shirt and his jean jacket to remember they’re there.

 

_ Shoes. _

 

_ … Sand. _

 

_ And Fred. _

 

Brobeck squeezes his hands around the stuffed, blue cat, the squishy beans inside rubbing his hands and calming him down.

 

He can’t sleep.

 

Why did he leave?   
  


He can’t forgive himself.

 

Why would he just leave?

 

He shouldn’t have.

 

He shouldn’t have left Glass, or Kenny, or his stuff.

 

But he did.

 

He can’t forgive himself.

 

He can’t sleep.

 

He won’t sleep.

 

He left in the worst way.

 

In the dark, no goodbye.

 

Why.

 

He twitches and the shadows come back.

 

There is a voice from far away.

 

He licks his lips, dry and cracking like the desert below his feet.

 

His eyes can’t stay open and he has to slap himself to stay awake, he can’t sleep, he isn’t allowed.

 

The shadows form faces and he has to look away, walk away.

 

_ “Bluebird! _ ”

 

Someone’s voice rings through his head and he twists around gasping, then he runs, he sprints, but his pace won’t last and he has to slow. His jacket traps his heat and he feels like crawling, wiping his watery eyes and clutching Fred close to his chest.

 

There is a small sound of shifting gravel and sand and a pair of shined black shoes appear, untouched by the dirt and grime of the desert. Brobeck looks at his own boots, the laces fraying and the soles worn down, he feels embarrassed. His whole outfit must be in disarray, and his hair must be sticking in all sorts of directions.

 

He looks up from the shoes, following the lines of a pressed, clean, pinstriped suit. The man within the suit stood straight, his hands folded behind his back, and his lined face stayed stoic and frowning.

 

“Mr.-?” Brobeck began to ask, but he blinked, and the man was gone. Again Brobeck twisted, stumbling and wiping his eyes.

 

He appeared again, this time clutching a tray of empty champagne glasses. Brobeck licked his lips.

 

“Mr.Richards?” He asked. Mr.Richards tilted his head.

 

Mr.Richard's voice was low and resonating, but the words were quiet and impossible to hear. Brobeck yawned, barely able to believe his eyes. 

 

“Mr.Richards, I don’t… I don’t understand how-”

 

“Mr.Weekes, have you forgotten about the dinner?”

 

Brobeck blinked, this time, Mr. Richards stayed put, “The dinner?” Mr. Richards dropped his tray in shattering of glass, and Brobeck shielded his face with his arms.

 

Mr. Richards was gone.

 

He remembers Mr. Richards was head of staff.

 

He walks and stumbles, his body weighed down with drowsiness.

 

“You should get some sleep kiddo,” Another man patted his back, he was dressed casually, like a gardener. “You know, my mom once went two days without sleep, she started hallucinating! Not a lot of fun you know, seeing things that aren’t there.”

 

“Mr. Levine?” Brobeck pulled at his hair, “Where did you come from? Are you with Mr. Richards?”

 

“Mr. Richards?” Mr. Levine scoffed, “That old coot? Why would I go anywhere with him?”

 

“But I just saw him!” Brobeck made to grab Mr. Levine’s shoulder, but he suddenly seemed farther away, out of reach.

 

“Probably just your mind playing tricks on you kiddo,” Mr. Levine suddenly had gloves on his fingers and a small, leafy plant in a ball of moist dirt in his hands. “Hey, you want to choose a place to plant this? You can even dig the hole.”

 

“But…” Brobeck looked around, “But we’re in the desert.”

 

Mr. Levine frowned, “What’s that kiddo? You gotta speak up, I can’t hear you when you mumble like that.”

 

“This doesn’t make sense,” Brobeck rubbed his face, stifling a yawn, “You can’t be here-” 

 

Mr. Levine was gone.

 

Brobeck sat down, wrapping his arms around his legs, then pushing his palms into his eyes. Was he crying? Why was he crying?

 

He has to keep going.

 

He walks until he hears the click of high-heeled shoes. Miss Germanotta crosses her arms and looks down at him, her maids uniform is fresh and clean.

 

“Dallon, before we go, what do I always tell you?”

 

“What?” Brobeck takes a few steps backward, “Before what?”

 

“Before you go, what are your instructions?”

 

“I-” He looks around, trying to avoid her steely gaze, “If we get separated, I have to find an Exterminator?”

 

Miss Germanotta tilts her head, “Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep?” She takes a step towards him and he falls to the ground, “Those are the rules when we go out, not the instructions when you left.”

 

“When I… When I left?”   
  


Miss Germanotta checks her watch, “You’re late for dinner.”

 

Then she is gone, and he wipes the tears from his eyes. 

 

He cries and cries and his lips are chapped and his mouth is dry.

 

“Hello, my little bluebird.”

 

His mother is dressed in black like she always was, and her red lipstick smile is bright and warm.

 

“Why all the tears?” She seems to wipe one from his cheek with her soft hands, “Bluebirds shouldn’t cry on sunny days.”

 

“I think,” He takes in a shaking breath that rattles his entire body, “I did something bad…”

 

“Something bad?” His mom runs her fingers through his hair, “How bad?”

 

“I… Something you said was wrong.”

 

She frowned, “And you left? Without saying sorry? Just like that? Poof?”

 

“Poof.” He copies her. “I can’t say sorry, mom.”

 

“Whatever it was,” She cups his face, “I forgive you.” His breath shakes and tears pattered on the ground below. “You need to sleep little bluebird, this isn’t healthy.”

 

“I can’t!” He pushes her away, she doesn’t seem upset, “I’m not allowed.”

 

“Not allowed.” She repeats, nodding, “Then tell me what I told you, bluebird, on that day.”

 

“On that day?” She nods and grabs his arm, calmly leading him forward.

 

“Dinner was early,” She said, “What did I tell you to do?”

 

He can’t remember.

 

“I can’t remember.”

 

“Yes, you can.”

 

Dinner had been early.

 

“Kenny and his mom came over.”

 

His mom wasn’t holding his hand anymore, and her hair was free from its usual bun, it flowed down her back but became messy. “I don’t want to remember that.”

 

“Dallon,” His mother became serious, “What did I say to you?”

 

“You were on the floor,” Brobeck looked down at his hands, his fingers twitched. “You were on the floor with… with Kenny’s mom.”

 

“Try again Dallon, tell me what I said, what were my exact instructions?”

 

“Did she die, mom?” Brobeck asked her, “I never saw, I just saw you and… that other guy, he wore white-”

 

“Dallon!” His mother screamed, for a moment she disappeared, then she cupped his face, “What did I tell you bluebird?”

 

He remembered now. “Stay with Mr. Levine.” She nodded and he continued, “Stay with Kenny and…”

 

“What happens if you get separated from Mr. Levine?”

 

“Stay with Kenny, stay put, don’t talk to strangers.”

 

“And if you are separated from Kenny?” She asked, “If Kenny dies? Or Mr.Levine, in the event you are separated from Kenny first?”

 

“I…” He hesitates,  _ if Kenny dies,  _ “If Kenny dies… Keep walking.”

 

“Keep walking,” She repeated, “Keep walking.”

 

“Keep walking,” He said, “Keep walking.”

 

“Keep walking.”

 

The day grew dark and she disappeared.

 

“Keep walking.”

 

“Keep walking.”

 

_ “Keep walking.” _

  
  


_ “Keep walking.” _

  
  


_ “Keep walking.” _

  
  
  


_ Keep walking _

  
  
  
  


_ Keep walking _

  
  
  
  


_               Keep walking _

  
  
  
  


_                                    Keep walking _

  
  
  
  


_                                                            Keep walking _

  
  


__

_                                                                                       Keep walking _

  
  
  
  
  


_                                                                                                                     Keep walking _

  
  
  
  
  


_                                                                                                                                                       Keep walking _

  
  


* * *

 

 

He had been sleeping.

 

He still has Fred.

 

When had he fallen asleep?

 

“Keep walking,” He whispers to the night sky.

 

“Are you still on that?”

 

Brobeck jumps and scrambles away from the voice, his heart beating against the inside of his chest. A small fire burned between him and a man. His face covered in a shining mask of orange, white, and blue. He looked at Brobeck with a calm, glazed expression, the kind Kenny put on when he was tired, and he cleaned a small knife with an already dirty rag.

 

“When I found you, you were walking,” The man continued, “I tried to get your attention… But you would only talk to yourself, over and over, keep walking, keep walking.” Brobeck stayed silent, staring at the man, “Then you passed out,” He pointed to where he had been lying, “Right there.”

 

“Oh.” Brobeck clutched his stuffed animal and wrapped his arms around himself.

 

“Thirsty?” The man asked, then dug a small water bottle from his bag, discarding the knife and rag. He held out the bottle, nodded once to reassure him.

 

Brobeck stood, shaky, and made his way around to sit with the man.

 

He took the bottle.

 

The water was clean and cool, and it was gone in just a few minutes.

 

“Thank you,” Brobeck breathed, the man nodded.

 

“No worries,” He said, “Now, what are you doing all the way out here? All alone?”

 

“I… I did something bad,” Brobeck looked into the fire, “I have to make up for it.”

 

The man gave him a confused sort of look, “Now ain’t that a coincidence,” He dug the knife back out of his bag, “That’s what I’m doing too… What’s your name kid?”

 

Brobeck hesitated before saying: “The Socialite,” He looked at the man, “What about you?”   
  


“Well right now…” The man put the knife into a sheath, “I’m going by Stardust. Who’s your friend?” He pointed at Brobeck’s cat.

 

“This is Fred,” Brobeck squeezed him around the middle and Stardust smiled, then turned back to Brobeck.

 

“So Socialite, what is it that you did that you have to wander out into the desert to make up for?”

 

Brobeck avoided his gaze and looked into the fire. Stardust tilted his head, “That’s alright, I’ll just tell you mine then, I abandoned the people I love, I ran away, now I have to make up for it, it’s the only way Destroya will forgive me.”

 

Brobeck frowned, “Destroya?”

 

Stardust blinked, “The desert herself, by my actions, I betrayed her,” He paused, “I have to atone… I thought she would not help me, but recently… She has given me signs, signs of what she wants me to do.”

 

“What were the signs?”

 

“The first one…” Stardust slouched, then looked at him, slightly wary, then he continued, “The first one was a neutral in Zone 1, they had escaped from the city and told me about a fire, the fire that made him flee to the desert, it happened years ago, and Better Living had pointed their fingers at the victims, saying it was their irresponsibility that started it. There was no investigation or concern for citizens affected, they simply had to move with no property or insurance. Then it just… went away, no one was compensated, like the neutral, they had to relocate to the desert because they had nowhere else.”

 

Brobeck looked at him in shock, “I didn’t know about that, I didn’t even hear about a fire when I was in the city…”

 

“Your parents might have kept it from you, or they simply forgot, if they took pills.”

 

Brobeck shook his head, still confused, Stardust continued: “I forgot about it, the story, until a week ago when they disappeared, I had gone back to see them, but their home was destroyed, BLi is usually quieter when they take someone, leaving no choice, but this time they were too thorough, it was too clean… That was my second sign.”

 

“Wait,” Brobeck squirmed, “Why… Why are you telling me this?”

 

Stardust shifted, hesitating, then he said: “I think you’re my third sign, Socialite, how is it that we stumbled upon each other, out here, for the same reason, Destroya made this happen, I have to believe she is guiding us towards forgiveness.”

 

“I don’t believe in… In Destroya.” Brobeck leaned away from him.

 

“You don’t have to,” Stardust calmed himself down, giving Brobeck back his space, “But I’m asking you as someone who is seeking the same atonement you are, we can help each other, find answers for the victims of this fire, I won’t force you, I would never force anyone, I’m asking for your help, that is all.”

 

Brobeck stared at him, pushing his fingers into Fred and tightening his posture, he thinks about Kenny and Glass.

 

“I’ll help you,” He says, “I’ll help you.”

 

Stardust gives him a soft smile, “Thank you, Socialite, I am sure that whatever you did… Destroya will forgive you.”

 

* * *

 

 

He finally slept.

 

For real.

 

He let his eyes fall and his body reset. He didn’t dream, or at least he didn’t remember the ones he had.

 

Stardust, for all his belief in forgiveness from others, he believed in health. He let Brobeck, or as he knew him, Socialite, sleep. For as long as he rested peacefully, Stardust didn’t leave or force him awake.

 

“I believe in forgiveness, not just from others,” Stardust told him, “But from yourself, I’m still working on that, you should too.”

 

At the start of their trek, Stardust opened the skin on the palm of his hand and let the red drip down his fingers, “I’m saying thank you,” He said. Brobeck had to look away.

 

He kept glancing back, not knowing what he was looking for.

 

Kenny or Glass, or the rest of the group.

 

Mr. Levine and his gardening tools.

 

He couldn’t remember what had happened, bits and pieces collected in his memories until he had to stop in his tracks. Stardust waited for him to collect himself again before leading him forward.

 

He only hoped that Kenny would forgive him for this too.

 

_ “The bittersweet about truth is that nothing could be more hurtful, yet nothing could be more helpful.”  _

_ ―  Mike Norton ,  Just Another War Story _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter next time! So I hope that can make up for this one being so short. Btw, Brobeck is on the spectrum in this, but I can't figure out how, or if I should tag it or not, any suggestions?
> 
> Bit of a self-promo but eh, hey, if you like my writing on Radiation Point, maybe you would like this other series I've started? It's called Le Velo Pour Deux, and written in REALLY long one shot form. If you like Magic, Vampire, Bad Jokes, FOB, and various other bands you should check it out blah blah blah, I'm pretty proud of it.


	6. Ghosts

 

_ “When your mother asks, "Do you want a piece of advice?" it's a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Erma Bombeck _

 

Mona Lisa had lent them the Land Rover, to replace the BLi truck, who’s tires had blown on the long drive back from Hyper Thrust. It was all fixed up with a new radio and suspension that Baby Snake almost seemed proud of under a haze of melancholy, and his clouded gaze was filled with worry and regret as he wished them all good luck.

 

Young Vein gripped Green Man around the neck and pushed their foreheads together, Green Man repeated the action with Mona.

 

Pete had no one to really say goodbye to, but he shook hands with Glass who turned it into a quick hug.

 

He smelled like hot air and sand.

 

Pete held him tight for those few seconds, suddenly and inexplicably sad.

 

Horseshoe Crab started the car and the radio came to life in a burst of static, Green Man smiled and jumped into the backseat, Mona Lisa clapped, “It’s a good sign!”

 

Pete smiled and climbed into the passenger seat, adjusting the dials until light guitar music came on the air, broadcasted from a station called: WKiL. Young Vein pointed through the open passenger side window, “That’s Dr. Death-Defying’s station, he won’t come on until later, though, I would stay on just in case, he always reports urgent news, but it’s either him or Hot Chimp’s station but she does mostly music-”

 

“You could listen to Newsagogo,” Mona butts in, “But they always report gossip, like celebrity rumors and static-”

 

“You know, I know this shit right?” Horseshoe rolled his eyes, “I’ve been out here long enough, and Gogo is perfectly reliable!” Green Man groaned from the backseat, covering his face with his hands, Pete smiled.

 

Mona grumbled to himself, then Vein leaned over to see Green Man, “You better come back Jon, and you two better make sure he doesn’t kill himself.” Pete nodded and Horseshoe began to put the car in gear.

 

“Hey,” Mona Lisa stopped the window before it could roll all the way up, “Remember what I said? Go see my mom, Zone 2, East, she’s close to the border, she’ll help you out.”

 

“You got it,” Horseshoe nodded and Green Man pushed to see him.

 

“Here,” He handed Mona a rag he had found in the backseat, “I found this, it was Disco’s, you should get it to Vein.” Mona stared at the rag for a moment, then took it.

 

“Stay safe,” He reached into the car to grab Green Man by his hair, grabbing at it for a second until Green Man nodded.

 

“You too.”

 

Pete buckled his seat belt, remembering what had happened when he had met the Rejects, then waved goodbye to Mona. Then, Horseshoe pulled the Land Rover away from The Shithole.

 

For a second, Pete looked back, up at the windows on the second floor, and caught sight of Baby Snake, scanning the desert for any sign of Brobeck.

 

* * *

 

 

Pete couldn’t help but look too.

  
As the desert flew by he scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of Brobeck, wandering the desert, clutching the blue cat that had laid in his bed. Until the soft guitar switched to a heavy bass and drum movement.

 

Green Man tapped his foot in the backseat, still nervous but otherwise in good spirits. Horseshoe bobbed his head slightly, his curled hair wisping about his face as he drove.

 

Pete wished he had kept the pen from the Better Living truck, but it was lost somewhere in the Shithole, impossible to find.

 

He wished he had a notebook, something to empty his thoughts into, even if those thoughts were just scribbles and tearing the pages, crumpling them up to throw at birds and cockroaches.

 

Finally, he leaned his head against the car window, the side of his forehead pressed flat. Green Man and Horseshoe began a soft conversation as the heavy guitar faded to another soft tune, their words were a low drone that seemed to float through the car and echo in his ears, hitting his eardrums but never registering. 

 

It was like a drug had been injected into his system that turned everything off except the twitching of his fingers, responding to words he wanted to write but having nowhere to put them.

 

He wakes up to an electrical beat, soft and inconsistent. The Green Man had fallen asleep, stretching out on the backseat without a seatbelt, snoring softly, with an arm falling to the floor. Periodically, his foot would twitch.

 

Horseshoe was silent, calm against the steering wheel, seeing a road that wasn’t there.

 

A cough over the radio.

 

Someone cleared their voice as the music faded, and Horseshoe frowned and turned the volume up. 

 

“Afternoon,” Someone took a deep breath, “I… I know you were probably expecting something different, but… you got me.” The voice paused, “Dr. D found me, I’ve been alone for awhile and… I don’t know he said I should come on and… get stuff out there.”

 

Pete stared at the radio, shiny and fresh from the box, barely believing his ears.

 

Did he have another double?

 

Another person so incredibly familiar Pete would have to question if he himself was real?

 

“This is my first time broadcasting so… try not to hate me if I choke,” The voice gave a breathy chuckle, “I don’t know why… But this makes sense, I guess… I’ve been thinking lately, about everything that’s been going on. Everything that’s happened these last couple weeks… It’s changed a lot of us, for better or for worse.”

 

Horseshoe slowed the car, no longer focused on the road ahead.

 

“I mean… it’s like everything is against us… everything is against _ me _ … I used to never see the bigger picture, everything revolved around the small space that I took up… When I finally got my head screwed on straight, everything fell apart.” There was a long pause, filled with white noise, “I guess… nothing was ever how I saw it, not really. Everything just crashed down on top of me and I couldn’t handle it, I relapsed and got in the mix with bad people again, people who would never really have me in mind. The people I cared about are gone now, and people you, whoever’s listening, are gone too.”

 

“I ache…” The voice shakes, “I  _ ache _ for the survivors of the Massacre of Zone 5… I never met anyone from there, never talked to them, they… they were a strange group of people, worshipping Destroya and giving their blood to the desert… I never met them, or any of the survivors, but I _ ache _ , I ache as if I had lost my own family… It’s this feeling in my stomach like… like I’ll never be who I was supposed to be with them.”

 

“Zone 5 was what the Zones really are… It’s where the first baby was born outside of Bat City, it’s where Mike Milligram himself… it’s where Mike Milligram lived and ultimately died, the original killjoy… and I ache, I hurt all over for everything that followed, for the barn burning, where Mr. Brightside’s cult turned those ghosted to simple livestock to throw away… I feel guilty for feeling like this. I’ve done nothing for these people, I didn’t take a stand at Hyper Thrust…”

 

“My mother, may she rest in peace… She once told me that being human meant having the ability to empathize with others… and being able to learn and grow… A lot of people would ask if that’s even still true.” The voice fades a little, “BLi has changed so much, our world, the people around us, modeling them to live in their perfect image… Have they changed what it means to be human? Our entire way of life shifted because of them… talking and making peace… has taken a backseat to fighting, killing even, even if it’s just Dracs and Exterminators… Has what makes us human changed?”

 

“I… I don’t think it has,” The voice becomes more confident, pushing from the speakers and making Pete frown, “We still live, as people, _ with  _ people, we still learn and grow, even if it’s different from the way we used to, we laugh and joke and… We still try. Try to make things better, we still bring children into this world, right? Why would we if we didn’t think they could make it? If we didn’t think that humanity would still have… _ humanity _ .”

 

The voice is silent for a moment.

 

“Maybe… Dr. D was right, maybe I did need this if only to make things clear for myself… Maybe I can help you too, anyone that’s out there listening, with everything that’s happened… Cults and massacres and shootings and brainwashings… I guess I still believe in humanity, or at least the part of it that chooses to persevere, when everything crashes around them, the survivors of a massacre, the citizens out there in Bat City that break through the haze of pills and medication, the juvie halls and the neutrals, and… and the killjoys.” The voice laughs, “Especially the killjoys.”

 

“I don’t know… maybe I’m just… spitting static.”

 

Pete takes in a breath, it shakes and the Green Man leans over the center console, “What the fuck are you two listening too?” Horseshoe Crab jumps and the Land Rover speeds up.

 

The voice comes back on and says: “Well… This was Agent-” The voice pauses, “This is Cherri Cola-” The Green Man shakes his head and changes the station to a louder, screaming song that shocks Pete’s ears after hearing the soft voice for so long.

 

“ _ God, _ ” The Green Man sits back, wiping his eyes, “What the fuck was that? I mean, I fall asleep and suddenly you’re listening to some static guru? Young Vein has better taste and he listens to that flowery pre-Helium Wars stuff.”

 

“It just came on,” Pete shrugged and Horseshoe nodded, “It was interesting.”

 

Green Man scoffed and twisted to see out the rear window and Horseshoe Crab looked at Pete, “You should go back to sleep.”

 

“But you’ve been driving all day,” Pete frowned, “One of us should take over.”

 

“No, I…” Horseshoe gripped the steering wheel tight, “I know the road and… it makes me calmer, just go back to sleep.”

 

“...Okay,” Pete shrugs, still unsure. But his eyes are still heavy, even with the music blaring and the seat jumping from the bass.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s dark.

 

_ Shit, _ he thinks, _ we stopped. _

 

Pete has to look around for a minute, searching in the dark for a door handle, or the buckle to unfasten his seatbelt, but there’s nothing there. He scrambles, there’s the seat… there’s the dashboard…

 

He can’t see a thing, Horseshoe isn’t even there-

 

He gags, there’s something at the back of his throat, crawling upward and scratching at the sides of his mouth.

 

He spits out something warm and Pete wants to think it’s his spit, but the way it lands with a _ splat!  _ on his shoes makes him think otherwise.

 

Then, whatever was crawling grips the sides of his mouth with sharp fingernails, holding his mouth open. On instinct, he kicks out, as if he could crawl away from whatever was crawling from between his teeth.

 

His cheeks stretch and then tear and he’s grabbing at his mouth in desperation, trying to make the thing stop tearing at his muscles and his _ jaw _ . It was indescribable like his teeth had gotten too big for his mouth and had suddenly rebelled as he writhed in his car seat, twisting and turning, stretching his hands out to grasp at thin air.

 

His head became heavy and it tipped forward, spilling a substance from the back of his throat that was somehow darker than dark, warm and cold at the same time, it almost hurt to let go of as it splattered on his shoes.

 

He closed his eyes wanting it to be over.

 

When he opened his eyes, he stood in front of himself.

 

The darkness was gone, replaced by a glow from the moon that seemed to vibrate the air around him, making him dizzy.

 

He wasn’t in the car anymore, and his feet were buried in the sand.

 

But the person in front of him _was him._

 

Coughing up black and writhing in his seat.

 

He looks down at his hands, they were wrapped in black and the nails were sharp, shining in the low light of the stars. He looks up again, breathing heavy, at himself.

 

His body looks up at him and he gasps, his cheeks separating too far back and his heart pounds and his body looks up at him through blank, clouded eyes and asks: “Bad Dream?”

 

He stumbles back, terrified, then he’s back in his body, seated, his head spinning as he looks up into the black eyes of The Sandman.

 

**bad dream?**

 

He is rocketed back to the waking world gasping for air squeezing his fist together and kicking his feet.

 

It’s night, and the stars shine into the car.

 

Horseshoe says something.

 

“What?” Pete gasps.

 

“Bad dream?” Horseshoe repeats and Pete stares at him.

 

“A little, yeah.”

 

He looks around, “Why did we stop?” He asks and Green Man snores from the backseat. Horseshoe Crab points to something in the distance.

 

“I found the house, but there aren’t any lights on.”

 

Pete squints in the direction he’s pointing to see the outline of a ramshackle house in the middle of nowhere, it was beaten by sand and leaning to one side, “It looks like it has two or three rooms, but it’s hard to tell, I don’t know if it’s Mona’s mom or not.” Horseshoe shrugs, “We’ll wait and see in the morning I guess.”

 

Pete wants to think he kept his eyes open all night, his mind still reeling from the dream, but his eyes snapped open when Horseshoe kicked at the steering wheel, shocked awake after being curled up in the front seat.

 

“Holy-!” Green Man had almost leaped into the front seat, and Pete had to clutch at his chest, begging for the adrenaline to subside.

 

“Dracs!” Horseshoe scrambled to dig his gun from the center console and struggled to open the door. Green Man pointed at the controls on the door.

 

“You have to unlock it! Unlock it! Then jiggle the handle! It gets stuck!”

 

Without even seeing what they were yelling about, Pete dug his old, out-of-date gun from under a collection of wires in the console, then looked up, through the windshield. From the old, ramshackle building, a small crowd of Draculoids gathered, vandalizing the building and running in strange patterns. From the door, raised off the ground with a few rickety stairs, was a woman.

 

She was short, with wild tangled hair that reminded Pete of Mona Lisa, yelling at the Dracs as they aimed their guns at her, only managing to hit the walls beside her.

 

Pete could barely hear her shrill voice until Horseshoe opened the door, scrambling out and shooting at the Dracs, Green Man followed, pointing his green and flowered gun and running after.

 

Pete followed, quickly checking his gun for a charge.

 

The first Drac went down with help from Green Man, who shot it in its leg and tackled it to the sand, it’s wild, vampiric mask going crooked. Horseshoe was more hesitant, shooting from a distance and stumbling backward when one got too close.

 

Pete only had the courage to stand by the car, his ears scratching from the woman’s shrill voice.

 

A Draculoid screamed as it ran towards him and he barely had time to raise his gun as it drove him to the ground, punching and screaming until Pete pulled the trigger, sending a beam of light through its chest. Then he scrambled away, out from under the no longer moving Draculoid. “Oh fuck…” He swung around just as another ran past him, then shot down by Green Man from a few feet away.

 

One grabbed him by the shoulder and he swung around, pistol whipping it in the face, and it went down, clutching its torn mask. With a little hesitation, Pete squeezed the trigger, jumping back from the kick. Then he ran away from the body, a beam of light tearing past his ear and sending shivers down his entire body. He was back in the dark and blinded by Green Man’s stolen gun, shaking in Disashi’s hand.

 

“Sorry!” Green Man yelled, and he was back in the desert, a Draculoid yelling in his ear, sending him sprinting towards the house until he tripped, falling onto his face and scraping his cheek. He turned and shot the Drac in the leg and scrabbled backward to stand.

 

A few feet away, Horseshoe had lost his gun, spitting blood from his mouth and wrestling with a Drac, who finally punched him in the face, making Horseshoe dazed, clutching at his eye in pain.

 

The Drac pulled it’s gun from its holster and pointed it at Horseshoe, who stared, wide-eyed and afraid. Pete ran and pointed his gun, hoping its charge would still hold.

 

It didn’t.

 

Finally, he just threw it at the Drac. It bounced off its head and into the sand, distracting it long enough for Pete to tackle it to the ground away from Horseshoe, punching it’s masked face over and over until Green Man yelled: “Card!”

 

The Drac pulled away, out from under Pete, trying to run when Green Man shot it in the back, sending it sprawling into the dust.

 

Pete turned back to Horseshoe, jogging over and offering a hand to him.

 

Horseshoe’s eye was bruised and swelling when he took Pete’s hand, staring up at him until finally saying: “Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Pete’s voice shaking voice betrayed him.

 

The Green Man’s nose was bleeding when he turned back to them, looking at the woman still standing in her doorway, this time yelling at them instead of the Dracs.

 

“Uh,” The Green Man wiped his mouth, “Hi Mrs. Smith! Good Morning!” He waved at her.

 

“Good Morning!” The woman, Mrs. Smith, scoffed, “It’s one in the afternoon! I was waiting for you to get out of that damn car since yesterday! I knew you were coming, but I didn’t know you would be cutting it so close!”

 

“Um… Yeah, sure, sorry,” The Green Man started forward.

 

“Is Spencer in there?” She called, “Phoenix Witch knows he’s the only one I can’t see with sight! Is he hiding in that car?”

 

“No, sorry,” The Green Man shook his head, holding his hand to his nose.

 

“Should have guessed,” The woman put her hands on her hips, “I’m his mother, I should know when my own child is coming home.”

 

Pete frowned and glanced at Horseshoe, questioning, “What is she talking about?” Horseshoe shrugged.

 

“I’m talking about my son!  _ Black Card _ ,” Mrs. Smith turned back into her house, “I have a mother’s intuition, but I can’t see him with the _ sight!  _ There’s gotta be a reason for it, a price tag or something, but I haven’t found it yet.”

 

The Green Man sighed and made his way up the rickety stairs into Mrs. Smith’s lopsided house, and Horseshoe and Pete followed him.

 

“Uh, so… How do you know my name?” Pete asked as he entered, looking around at the inside of the house, from the descriptions he had heard of Mona Lisa’s mother, he had been thinking the interior would hold more mysterious artifacts and animal bones, and books filled with ancient and dead languages. Instead, he was met with a basic kitchen and living room mix. The floor was creaking and tilted to one side, and the heavy, 1950’s looking fridge didn’t help, along with the other various, slightly dirty kitchen appliances. 

 

The Green Man took a seat on the sagging blue couch that rested under a cracked window that was stained with dust and grime.

 

“I know because I know,” Mrs. Smith returned to the pastel yellow sink, which was filled with hot, bubbling water, “Just like I know Horseshoe Crab, come here hon, let me see your eye,” She turned to open the fridge, which was somehow working, and spewing out a cold breeze that washed over Pete’s hot skin like water. “And Jonny, I want you to put your head up, look at the ceiling, okay?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Green Man’s voice sounded stuffed as he held his nose, shifting in his seat to look up at the roof.

 

“Black Card, your lip is a little split, are your teeth falling out at all?”

 

Pete swiped his tongue across his gums, slightly terrified, then he sighed, “No,” In relief.

 

“Just what I thought,” She turned and gave Horseshoe a rag wrapped around some ice, and he took it, amazed.

 

“How do you have power?” He asked.

 

“Generator,” Mrs. Smith pointed below the floorboards, “Spencer got it hooked up a few years ago with his daddy.” She turned back to the fridge and handed Pete his own rag, “Jonny I want you to go to the bathroom,” She pointed at a rotting door next to the couch, “Put some tissues on that nose, and don’t drip any blood on the nice white carpet! That’s a bad omen!” Green Man nodded and stood, still looking at the ceiling, it took him a second to find the doorknob.

 

Then Mrs. Smith returned to washing the dishes. “Take a seat, I’ll make up some beans or something.” She waved to the table as Green Man returned with tissues stuffed up his nose.

 

They all took a seat at the tilting chairs.

 

“So um… Mrs. Smith-” Pete began.

 

“You’re looking for someone,” She finished for him, “Someone close and someone…” She searched for a word, “Someone… familiar? I suppose, there’s a word for it somewhere.”

 

“We’re looking for a friend, he was kidnapped,” The Green Man wheezed, pressing the tissues into his nose. Mrs. Smith nodded and turned to set a few mismatched bowls on the table, still hot from the sink.

 

“And someone else, right?” She drained the sink, “Who could help you find him?”

 

“He called himself the Cobra,” Pete answered, “We think he-”

 

“He worshiped the Snake,” Mrs. Smith bent down to turn on an old gas stove, “The Earth-Eater.”

 

Pete exchanged glances with Horseshoe. “Yeah-”

 

“Not the most friendly bunch,” She said, placing a rusty kettle on the stove, “I think I’ll make tea.”

 

“Mona said you could help us find the Cobra and our friend.” Horseshoe watched her adjust the dials on the stove as she turned on another flame, putting a can of beans from the fridge on.

 

“I can!” She sounded happy as she turned to sit at the table with them, “Tell me about them, The Cobra, and your other friend.”

 

“His name is Andy,” The Green Man answered first, “He… he was a Ritalin Rat, in the city, and…”

 

“What was his full name?” Mrs. Smith asked.

 

“Andrew Hurley,” Green Man continued, “He liked brownies? I don’t know what else to say.”

 

“That might be enough,” Mrs. Smith reached and patted his hand comfortingly, then turned to Pete, “And what about the Cobra?”

 

“I don’t know his real name, but he spoke Spanish,” Pete shrugged, “He wore purple too, and he had this group of kids that hung around him, The Rejects, they worship-”

 

“The Sandman,” She interrupted, smiling, “I know about that.” She stood and dug a pot out of a cupboard below the sink, “We all know.” She put the pot down on the stove, removing the beans and opening the can to put them in the pot.

 

It was brown and splattered into the pot, Pete’s stomach growled.

 

“Are you okay Mrs. Smith?” The Green Man asked, and she nodded.

 

“Just fine, I’m trying to channel your friends, it’s quite hard without an object to hold on to.” She stirred the beans with a wooden spoon, “Beans will have to do.” She chortled at her small joke and looked into the sink, “Oh well, that’s no fun,” She reached her hand in and brought out a sharp knife, still dirty with a brown, batter-like substance, “I forgot to wash this knife.”

 

“Andy was wearing this torn shirt when he was taken, can you… try and imagine it?” Green Man questioned, and Horseshoe rubbed his unbeaten eye, not believing in what Mrs. Smith said she could do.

 

“Every bit helps hon,” She set the knife down next her and stirred the beans, “I’ll try the Cobra firs-oh!” She dropped the spoon, “Burnt my finger a little bit there-”

 

“Here,” Pete stood, “You can use the rag-”   
  


“No,” Mrs. Smith interrupted, still sounding happy, “That’s alright hon, sit down.” Pete hesitated, then sat down, setting the rag on the table slowly. She whispered to herself: _“_ _¿Cual es la problema_ _conmigo hoy?”_

 

“Um… Mrs. Smith?” Green Man leaned forward, “Seriously, are you sure you’re okay?”

 

_ “¡Estoy bien!”  _ She turned and slammed the knife into the table and they tumbled backward away from her, “I’m fine!”

 

Her hair seemed more tangled than before, and her eyes were blank, looking past Pete, smiling, almost breathless. “Why do you insist on acting like this,  _ chico,”  _ She stared over Pete’s shoulder, “You’re acting  _ loco,  _ there are Exterminators all around! You can’t draw so much attention to yourself!” She dug the knife from the table, gripping it with white knuckles.

 

“Mrs. Smith!” Green Man yelled, “Uh… Where are are you?”

 

“Where am I? Zone 1,  _ chico!”  _ Mrs. Smith tilted her head, “With Suarez! In this truck! Can’t you see?”

 

“What… What kind of truck?” Pete asked, and she grew quiet.

 

“It’s white… “ She looked down at the knife in hand, “I’m sorry, it’s BLi, in a few days, I must have scared you-” She caught sight of Pete,  _ “You.”  _ She pointed the knife at him, her eyes going blank again and Pete slammed back into the wall to get away.

 

“This is not your place,” Her hand shakes, “Not in this waking world.”

 

“Mrs. Smith?” Green Man asked tentatively, “What are you talking abou-”

 

“You don’t  _ belong here!” _ Mrs. Smith shrieked, “Your eyes betray the truth! You are  _ The Sandman!” _

 

Pete reached for the doorknob, wide-eyed and afraid as she continued, Horseshoe looked between him and the door, then at Mrs. Smith.

 

Pete starts to raise his palms in defense, “Mrs. Smith, I don’t know what you’re talking ab-” 

 

_ “Shut up!” _

 

She throws the knife and it embeds itself in the wall beside his head, he freezes, then rushes out the door with her voice still going off in his head and out loud, Green Man and Horseshoe scrambled after him as she tugged at her hair.

 

_ “All you speak is lies! Lies and Nightmares! Destined to put us all to sleep!” _

 

He ran towards the Land Rover and Green Man called: “The backseat! The backseat!” 

 

During the fight, they had left the doors open, thankfully none of the Dracs strewn about hadn’t been smart enough to crawl inside and make a break for it. But Pete dived into the backseat all the same and quickly moved to accommodate Horseshoe, who closed the door behind him. Green Man finally dove into the front as Mrs. Smith dug out her own ray-gun, pointing it at the car.

 

Green Man put the car into gear before she could start shoot and they left in a cloud of dust, breathing heavily.

 

“Has Mona Lisa ever done that?” Horseshoe asked, coughing and holding his eye.

 

“Never,” Green Man shook his head, “And I’ve never seen Mr. Smith act like that either.”

 

_ “When you are crazy you learn to keep quiet.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Philip K. Dick _ _ ,  _ _ VALIS _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wtf did I just write


	7. and Fairytales

 

_“When you believe you have lost your power and control nothing will ever seem easy or simple.”_

_―_ _Shannon L. Alder_

 

He wakes up.

 

Alone?

 

No, there’s someone there, in the dark.

 

Sitting up he says: “You stopped.” His voice croaks, broken from the desert.

 

“I’m not a machine,” said Disashi, taking a sip from a water pouch he had stolen a few miles before, “I’m not invincible.”

 

“You seemed like one,” Andy refers to the fight in the Shithole’s kitchen.

 

Disashi let out a breathy chuckle. Andy couldn’t see his face, but he might have been smiling. “Really?” He passes back the pouch and Andy takes it, quickly taking as many gulps as he could before Disashi reached for it again, pulling it out of his hand in disgust.

 

“Get up,” Disashi stood, “Or I’ll force you up.”

 

They had been at this for many hours.

 

Walking and walking. Then stopping for Andy doesn’t know how long, but it was never long enough.

 

He hadn’t even been aware of the first hours of their journey, stuck in a haze of withdrawal and swimming eyesight.

 

The haze would come again, but right now he tried to enjoy the clearness.

 

Even if that clear came with a building tension that lumped in his throat.

 

There were other feelings too.

 

Disashi pulled an ugly rusted switchblade from his belt. “You know the rules,” He said, and Andy nodded.

 

“No running, you can outrun me,” Andy rasped, repeating what he had been told, “No hiding, you’ll find me, and no fighting, because…” He swallowed hard.

 

“Because?” Disashi pushed the knife’s tip into Andy’s lower back, “Because?”

 

“Because you’re better,” Andy tilted his head and began to walk, “You’re a better fighter.”

 

“I’m stronger than you,” Disashi seemed to be trying to convince someone else, “I’m better.”

 

They came slowly at first.

 

Those other feelings.

 

Small and unnoticed until he wiped his face and found it wet with tears and an ugly feeling of despair washed over him.

 

Disashi watched as he sobbed, sitting in the dust and clutching his face.

 

“Get up, junkie,” He had said, finally growing impatient and spitting at Andy’s feet.

 

The other came whenever Disashi shoved him to the ground, smiling and kicking sand, “I’ better than you, better than you’ll ever be,” He would say, and a boiling feeling would erupt in Andy’s chest. One that would travel down his arms and curl his fingers.

 

“Hey,” Disashi pushed him forward, “Move, junkie.”

 

He stumbles, and they walk.

 

Forever, it always seems.

 

Until it grows dark again and Disashi is suddenly leading him to a patch of high dunes. Smoke was rising from behind and a fire lit up the night sky, making stars disappear and turning the sand orange.

 

“What are we-” Disashi pushed a hand over his mouth and pushed him to the ground, falling next to him and pressing the knife against the skin of his neck.

 

“Be quiet,” Disashi rasped, then crawled over the dune, grabbing Andy by the collar and forcing him to follow.

 

Over the dune, a small campfire sat, surrounded by rocks.

 

On the other side, facing towards them, a boy sat, his straight blond hair sticking up all over the place and his light eyes reflected the fire as he stared at it.

 

Loneliness was written across his face like a poem.

 

“You stay here,” Disashi whispers, “You run, you die.”

 

Then he left, clutching the knife, and running around the dunes so fast he almost looked like a shadow. “Wait!” Andy whispered hoarsely, but Disashi was already behind the kid, sneaking up behind him with his knife in hand. “No!” Andy crawled forward as fast as he could, but not before the kid stood up, whirling around in fear to see Disashi.

 

“What the fuck!”

 

Disashi began to fake fear, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I-”

 

The blond kid was breathing heavily and Andy watched as Disashi faked being distraught. “I’m so sorry it’s just-” He gulped for air, “My friends! There were Dracs! I could barely escape-”

 

“It’s okay!” The kid showed his palms, “It’s fine! What’s your name?” He was trying to calm Disashi down from his terror.

 

“Disashi,” He gulped, close to tears.

 

“I’m Lloyd,” Lloyd put a hand to his chest and took a step towards Disashi, “You’re going to be fine-” Disashi grabbed his hand and Andy barely had time to shout: _“No!”_ before the knife was in Lloyd’s throat.

 

He retched and coughed up blood and Andy stood up as fast as he could, stumbling towards them in shock, “No!” He yelled again. Disashi caught Lloyd and lowered him to the ground, still alive, struggled to breath through blood and metal. “No…” Andy reached out for him, looking for somewhere to put pressure, a way to help.

 

Disashi rolled his eyes as Lloyd grabbed Andy’s shirt, staining it red on top of the dust and dirt.

 

Then he was gone, his eyes empty and frozen with hurt, betrayed by someone he had barely known.

 

The boiling returned and Andy stood to push Disashi back, “What the hell was that?!” He rasped, and Disashi pushed him back, “Why?!”

 

“It was his fate!” Disashi growled, “This is how it was supposed to happen! He has supplies-”

 

“He would have shared!” Andy wished he could yell, scream, do ssomething,“He was all alone! He believed you!”

 

Now his body was empty, except for the silver blade that Disashi merely left, digging through Lloyd’s bags as if they were his own.

 

“He served his purpose,” Disashi said, “That’s how it works.”

 

 _“It?!_ What is _It?!_ ”

 

Disashi stood and grabbed him by the collar, _“The Earth-Eater!”_ His voice echoed, “That’s how it works!” He pointed to Lloyd, “It gives and it takes… Whatever necessary! You wouldn’t understand, junkie, this is not your quest, it’s mine, you have no say, and you will never have any say! You want to follow a moral compass, junkie? That’s a bit hard to do when you have no sense of direction!”

 

Disashi ended his tirade with heavy breathing and wide eyes. Then, he grabbed Lloyd by the feet, dragging him over the dune and pulling the knife from his throat, cleaning it on his shirt.

 

“Take that shirt off,” He demanded, “I don’t want to see that bullshit logo anymore.”

 

Andy did as he said, silent as he threw the Better Living sanctioned polo in the fire. He exchanged it for another shirt, found in Lloyd’s travel bag. It was old and advertised an old movie made before The Helium Wars killed the world.

 

A woman dressed in white was positioned over the heart, she looked to the stars, her eyes filled with hope.

 

He buried his face in the shirt before throwing it over his head.

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up retching, throwing up spit and the small portion of food eaten out of Lloyd’s bag. This time, the dreams didn’t come, but his throat constricted and his heart beat fast. Sweat dropped from his face to the sand below him as he stood, trying to escape, trying to run from the suffocation and the pressure building in his throat.

 

_**now is not the time, Andrew** _

 

The Sandman appeared before him, more human than ever.

 

His smile was painted, like a clown’s, and his cape of shadow was a costume, thrown together and false.

_**must I repeat myself?** _

 

Andy felt hot tears trail down his face, mingling with sweat.

 

_**your friends continue their search, but you will not survive if you carry on like this** _

 

He tilted his head and placed a gloved hand on Andy’s neck, the pressure subsided.

 

_**there is no shame, with me, Andrew, you are allowed weakness** _

_**but there is only so much regret in the world** _

_**and all this will be for nothing** _

* * *

 

 

Disashi had him by the arms again.

 

Dragging.

 

Lloyd’s small camp had disappeared into the distance and would be swallowed by The Sandman soon. “What…” Andy whispered, and Disashi dropped him, “What did you do? With Lloyd.”

 

“What do you mean?” asked Disashi, “There was nothing to do, he’s dead.”

 

“You could have buried him,” Andy stood, swaying, “You could have-”

 

“I could have done a lot of things,” Disashi snarled under his breath, and pushed Andy back, clutching the knife in his hand. “None of them would have gone in your favor.”

 

“Where are we going?” Andy finally asked, trying to put distance between him and the knife in his back.

 

“We’re meeting a friend,” Disashi spits onto the sand, “And we don’t have to walk anymore.” What he says gives Andy pause.

 

_No more walking._

 

Every step has made his body ache.

 

“Maybe I’ll put a rope around your neck,” Disashi pushes him, “Drag you behind.”

 

The sun beats into him as if to reinforce the threat, and the sand sticks to the palms of his hands, like tiny needles in his skin.

 

They continue for a short time before the ruins of an old stucco building reveals itself from behind a dune. It’s walls were caving in, and the old, rotting fence that surrounded the property was falling apart, sinking into the sand and leaning with the wind.

 

The garage to the building, however, was kept in repair, free of spray paint and dirt.

 

“Ronnie!” Disashi called as they drew nearer, “You better be in there!”

 

“Disashi!” ‘Ronnie’ called back cheerfully, exiting the garage and throwing a rag over his shoulder, “How’s Zone 3 been treating you?”

 

“Like shit,” Disashi smiled his cruel smile and clapped Ronnie on the back like a friend.

 

Ronnie was a tall man, with black hair that was beyond saving from anything other than a razor, and tattoos that traced his entire body. Andy couldn’t help but stare at them as Disashi and Ronnie exchanged words. His own skin itched.

 

One tattoo caught his eye, a thin snake, wrapping it’s way up Ronnie’s neck and tracing across his forehead.

 

“So,” Ronnie deliberately ignored him, turning his shoulders to only see Disashi, “You’re looking for a ride?”

 

“Something fast,” Disashi said, “I want to get home, out of this sun and step on the even ground.”

 

“Well, I just found something,” Ronnie led them around to what would have been the backyard, “Stole it really, off a few color kids that happened to ride by in the night, hotwired right under their ugly noses.” He said this with flourish but rubbed his shoulder at the same time, massaging the socket as if he had strained it before.

 

Andy knew the feeling.

 

The feeling of his own fist as it collided with someone’s skin, breaking vessels and sending a stinging pain through the other person’s nerves.

 

He wanted to feel it again.

 

Disashi’s voice broke him from his spell, “Well, why not show me? You expecting a few carbons?”

 

“Not from you, Disashi,” Ronnie smiled with crooked teeth, “You’ve always got a free pass from me.”

 

He led them to a few older cars, trashed and dusty, to one covered by an older sheet, Ronnie patted the hood, “She’s a beauty, really, I wanted to protect the paint job.” Disashi tilted his head.

 

“How much juice does she have?”

 

“Enough, but seriously, you won’t say no.”

 

Disashi casts an eye to check up on Andy, then gestures at the sheet, “Let’s see this thing.”

 

Ronnie grinned and wrapped one end of the sheet around his fist, pulling hard to reveal a spray-painted car, it’s design was pre-Helium, with the seats done up in leather and rims set to sparkling in the heat.

 

“One of the best cars I’ve come across in a while,” Ronnie's voice caught and he patted the hood again, resting his palm over one of the eight legs of a spider, “A ‘79 Trans Am… When was the last time you saw one of these?”

 

“It’s a car, Ronnie,” Disashi deadpanned, looking into the driver’s side window, “Not a hunk of meat.”

 

“It could be sign from the Earth-Eater itself and I would still be in love with it,” Ronnie snapped, “Don’t scratch it.”

 

“What-” Andy began, interrupted by Disashi grabbing him by the arm and pushing him towards the car.

 

“Junkie, why don’t you drive?”

 

It was another game, Andy knew it.

 

“After all, what better way to keep you from running?”

 

He wouldn’t get in the car, he couldn’t, he didn’t even want to look at the steering wheel-

 

“You go the wrong way, I kill you.”

 

Ronnie’s tattoo’s seemed to swim on his skin, and his smile turned into the same one Disashi held. Andy wanted to stay either way. He wanted to stay and ask him, ask Ronnie, what they meant to him.

 

“You try and crash it, I kill you.”

 

His hands shook, his fingers curled into fists.

 

“You brake too hard, I kill you.” Disashi noticed his fists and smiled, “Get in the car, Andy.”

 

Hearing his own name sent a cold flash down his spine.

 

He threw up onto Ronnie’s shoes, blood and spit and stomach acid if that was possible.

 

Ronnie slapped the consciousness out of him, and he woke in the front seat.

 

His fingers now rested on the steering wheel.

 

“Go,” Disashi stared at him from the passenger's seat.

 

Andy could only swallow the taste from his parched mouth.

 

“Go!” Disashi threatened, “I’ll cut a finger off.”

 

Andy looked back at the stucco house, where Ronnie leaned, the tattoos were still this time. He took a shaky breath and put the car in gear, then slowly pulled away from the building.

 

Night fell, and he expected to stop, looking over at Disashi, whose gaze was steady on Andy, knife clutched in his right hand. Twirling it around his fingers.

 

“Keep going,” His voice is steady, “We go until we get there.”

 

Any releases a breath shakes his lungs.

 

“Junkie,” Disashi began, “I heard you were friends with the Green Man before you went Better Living on him.” Andy’s shoulders tightened, “I heard your talk… what you did… Do you still want to die, junkie?”

 

Andy froze, seizing up on the gas pedal, putting the car past seventy, “What?”

 

“You said it yourself: ‘I didn’t want to feel anymore,’” He tilts his head, “Is that still it? Do want to die, junkie?”

 

Does he?

 

“No,” Andy shakes his head, “I don’t.”

 

“Really, because from my own experience, you do,” Disashi leans forward and the leather seats crack under his weight. “Every chance you get, you leap towards death. Maybe that’s why I haven’t done it yet, I just don’t want to give you the _satisfaction.”_

 

He growls the last word, low.

 

Echoing.

 

“How much farther?” He ventures, trying to get rid of the ugly feeling that’s echoing through his head.

 

Disashi glanced out the windshield, “Not much,” He picked at his fingernails, “If you keep on this road.”

 

The road was simply dust and rocks smoothed over by years of use.

 

It had no end in sight.

 

Until Disashi pointed his knife and forced him to make a sharp turn to the right when they passed a collection of mailboxes, some full to bursting, and others were broken, hanging empty without a care.

 

The road disappeared as soon as he turned, getting bumpy and hard to steer on, the wheels turned of their own accord and Andy was afraid they would fall off.

 

The knife Disashi had kept so close fell from his hand and ended up under the seat and he scrambled for it, keeping an eye on Andy in the dim light.

 

“Slow down,” Disashi braced himself against the dashboard. Andy took a deep breath and slowed the car, his knuckles white against the steering wheel and his legs began to feel cramped after so long in the same position.

 

A few more minutes and Disashi ordered him to stop.

 

They waited.

 

An hour passed and Andy’s heart rate refused to slow.

 

“Get out of the car.”

 

He got out of the car.

 

More walking.

 

More stumbling.

 

Until-

 

A man and a woman, shadowed and smiling, greet Disashi a touch to the shoulder, and grab Andy.

He struggles and they drag him, unbothered, he’s speechless, somehow confused at an obvious turn of events. Disashi gets back in the car and-

 

Drives away.

 

Andy finally screamed, loud and begging, at Disashi, at Ronnie, at Lloyd, at the people dragging him.

 

At Pete.

 

Dr. Benzedrine.

 

Horseshoe Crab.

 

They shut him up when his voice gets choppy, tearing and scratching at their ears, then he is in a chair.

 

Inside.

 

They give him water that disappears the second he gets it to his lips, and rice, amazingly.

 

It’s bland and hard to swallow but it goes down.

 

He falls asleep without a word, the people around him are blurs of eyes and mouths and swirling hair and rough skin.

 

He wakes up halfway through.

 

They’re putting ink into his skin, on his chest, tracing up his stomach.

 

They had one buzzing machine, it filled his ears and made him sick, gripping at the sides of the table and wincing, writhing, trying to get away. They held him down as the machine worked, held up by an older woman who smiled with only three teeth.

 

“W-What-” He tried to speak and they covered his mouth, their faces angry and impatient.

 

The needle reached his neck and he struggled against their hold, crying, confused and afraid.

 

The woman continued, over and over without pause the needle went into his skin until it became too much.

 

He wakes again when the woman is finished.

 

There’s a snake on his chest now, it’s teeth bared, preparing to eat his heart.

 

“Why…” Andy touches the snake, the skin around it still red and irritated, and traced the pattern of the scales down his chest. “What is this?” He finally turns to the woman, cleaning her machine.

 

She hums, “The Earth-Eater, little boy, it’s sad you never knew.”

 

“Never knew… Never knew what?” He blinks, hard, as if would erase the tattoo from his skin, “I don’t understand, where’s Disashi?”

 

“Disashi…” The woman looks up at him, “He is away, don’t ask again.”

 

He tries to stand and his legs fall beneath him, bringing him to the ground. The woman grabs him by the shoulder and forces him to stand, almost dragging him behind as she leads him away. He could only look down at the sand, hot in the sun.

 

“You won’t be alone,” The woman speaks, “You will be with friends, they will be there for you. Or…” She pauses, _“He_ will be there with you… So sad, they don’t know the difference any more, I’m sure you’ll understand but they… Together for so long, they don’t even know who they are without the other, it’s like they are one person in two bodies.” She leads him into a small structure, a trashed and broken building with a chipped tile floor.

 

“Don’t separate them,” The woman advises him, pointing to a hatch in the ground, “You will be safe, you should be happy, this is a release, I promise you.”

 

He stares at the hatch, “No… I can’t-”

 

She opens the hatch and a man appeared behind Andy, had he been following this whole time? And pushed him into the hole in the ground, sending him tumbling down a breaking set of stairs that scratched his shoulders and cut his cheeks.

 

The hatch closed quick as he scrambled back up, pounding on the door as hard as he could.

 

He was strong, he remembered he was he had to be he had tobehehadtobehehadtobe

 

He had                to be

 

            He had            to be

 

“Please stop,” A voice, calling from the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve tried it before.”

 

He turns, breathing heavily.

 

Two boys, standing so close to the other they seemed joined, stood at the bottom of the stairs. They had the snake too, a snarling, hideous creature that made Andy’s hair stand on end.

 

“I’ve tried it before,” One of them says, “But it’s stuck on there-”

 

“Same with the window,” The other boy speaks, pointing at the source of light, “Sealed shut.”

 

“W-Who are you?” Andy leaned against the railing, his knuckles scratched and bruising, “What am I doing here?”

 

“JaAlckex,” The boys spoke at the same time, still unbelievably close to each other, they gave the other a look, an emotion Andy couldn’t distinguish, they tried again, “AlJaexck.”

 

“Jack… and Alex?” Andy tried, and they nodded.

 

One of them responded: “Jack&Alex.” He didn’t point at which one was which.

 

“Okay…” He wondered if this was what the woman meant, “What are they gonna do to us?”

 

There was a long pause until Jack&Alex said in unison:

 

“Sacrifice us?”

 

_“What you are to do without me I cannot imagine.”_

_―_ _George Bernard Shaw_ _,_ _Pygmalion_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the holidays really only serve to make me fall behind on posting... I hope you all had wonderful holidays!


	8. Tonight

 

_ “The quiet sense of something lost”  _

_ ―  _ _ Alfred Tennyson _

 

He slept in the back of the Cherry with Glass, who slept tightly tucked against the side, while he stretched out across the seat, letting his legs stretch across the divider.

 

Mona and Baby Snake stayed up front, Mona drooling on the upholstery, which Baby Snake would yell at him for once he would wake up.

 

He hadn’t fallen asleep easy, staying rigid in his seat, scanning the horizon for any sign of Brobeck until he had finally drifted off.

 

Young Vein had woken up first, and it was still dark when he finally decided to open his eyes. It seemed to always happen that way now but watching the sunrise didn’t make him feel better anymore.

 

The rag that The Green Man had found in the Land Rover only served to make Young Vein on edge again. On edge about the sick that Brent had carried. On edge that it would be given to him, or Mona, or anyone that was too close.

 

He stuffed it in his back pocket.

 

Glass stirred in his sleep, his mouth open and his neck bent back onto the seat. It was almost amazing how different he looked asleep compared to awake. Like all the burns and cracks in his skin faded away and only left the appearance of some kid from the city, almost too happy for his own good.

 

He took in a deep breath and shifted so he wouldn’t take up too much room.

 

Glass cracked open one eye, still seeming different, like the sun had never touched him.

 

_ “Hi,” _ He gave Young Vein the tiniest of waves, his voice deep and cracking from sleep.

 

“Hey,” Vein nodded.

 

_ “Were you-” _ He stifled a yawn,  _ “-Awake this whole time?” _

 

“I woke up a little before you,” He said, “It’s a habit, I would always get woken up to watch the sunrise.”

 

_ “Oh,” _ Glass rubbed his eyes and sat up straight,  _ “Can I… Can I ask you something?” _

 

Vein nodded, “Okay.”

 

_ “What was the rag? That Mona gave you earlier? What is it for?” _

 

“Oh,” Vein looked down at his lap, then pulled it out of his back pocket. “It was just to put water in if someone got sick.”

 

Glass nodded, but kept his mouth shut, expecting more.

 

Young Vein turned away to face the front, stuffing the rag back into his pocket. Glass deflated and did the same, watching the horizon turned purple. Young Vein had to look away, feeling squeamish.

 

Mona yawned and jerked awake, kicking the dashboard and groaning as the sun rose. Baby Snake was awake as soon as Mona, looking as if he had barely even slept at all, still blinking heavily as he started the car.

 

“Woah, hey!” Mona started, “Shouldn’t we at least eat first?”

 

“He’s getting farther and farther away whenever we stop.” Baby Snake fumbled with the keys.

 

“He has to rest too,” Young Vein said, reaching into the front seat to put a hand on his shoulder, “Just take a minute and eat something.”

 

Baby Snake looked back and forth between them for a moment and looked back at Glass, who was silent when he nodded in agreement. He sighed.

 

“Just a couple minutes,” He yawned, “Then we go, please?” Mona smiled and hopped out of the car, quickly running to dig a few cans of Power Pup out of the trunk.

 

“I kinda wish we brought that sack of potatoes,” Young Vein caught the can Mona had tossed to him, “Then we wouldn’t have to choke this down.”

 

“Power Pup is great!” Mona peeled back the opening to his can, “Oh, wait, Glass…” He looked at Glass, about to hand his can to him, “Did you-”

 

_ “I had some yesterday,” _ Glass picked at his fingernails,  _ “I’m fine.” _

After they had finished, Baby Snake made them toss the cans out of the car, even in his haste to find Brobeck he cared about his car.

 

“Are you still sure that this is the way he went?!” Young Vein yelled as soon as they got going.

 

Baby Snake tightened his grip on the steering wheel, avoiding the question.

 

“We have to be, right?!” Mona yelled back, “We’ll find him!” He put a hand on Baby Snake’s shoulder, “Even if this is the wrong way, he’s walking, we’re driving.”

 

Glass nodded, his eyes glassy. He had been attempting to soak up radiation, which had proved difficult in a moving car. Even with the top gone.  _ “It’s gonna be okay.” _

 

His voice sent shivers up Young Vein’s back, even when it seemed familiar, his blank eyes did not.

 

* * *

 

 

It got dark again and Young Vein has to squint down the headlights to be sure he’s even seeing anything but night. The stars are burning dim but the moon was nowhere to be seen, probably lost just like Brobeck. 

 

Glass was next to him, anxious as usual but gripping the seat like a lifeline, Young Vein wondered if he was cold with only a thin white tank top and shorts.

 

“We should stop!” Young Vein finally yelled, “We’ll never see him! If we do, it’ll be when we hit him with the Cherry!” Baby Snake was so focused on the road ahead he didn’t hear.

 

“Snake!” Mona yelled, reaching for the wheel, “We have to stop!”

 

“No!” Baby Snake jerked away and the car whipped to the left, throwing Young Vein and Glass tumbling against the sides and onto the floor. “Look!” He pointed past the range of the headlights where the sky met the sand.

 

Glass leaned over the center console,  _ “How did you even see that?” _

 

A thin line of white smoke was trailing up to the sky, barely discernible against the star spotted sky.

 

“It’s the only thing I’ve been looking at this entire time!” Baby Snake hit the steering wheel with his palm, “I thought I told you!”

 

“Is that what you were saying when you were mumbling to yourself?!” Mona Lisa put his hands against the sides of his head, pulling at his hair.

 

“It could be him,” Baby Snake pushed the gas down harder, letting the dust fly behind the car and Young Vein had to brace himself on the seat. 

 

“And what if it’s not? You can’t just barrel into someone else’s campsite!” Mona yelled, but Baby Snake refused to listen, “Come on! Glass?” He looked back at him for support. Glass was silent, staring ahead at the smoke with an open mouth.

 

“Slow the fuck down!” Mona cried, white knuckling the dashboard, “Slow down or you’ll crash into that dune!”

 

Young Vien couldn’t see what he was talking about until they were almost upon it, a steep hill of sand, most likely hard packed from years of storms and wind, moving and shifting to create what seemed like a wall of dust and heat.

 

Young Vein barely had time to throw his hands over his face when Baby Snake pulled the emergency brake, turning the wheel to a hard right, spinning the Cherry and throwing Young Vein and Glass back against their seats. 

 

Vein was fine, having already been seated and buckled in. But Glass was thrown against the side of the car, hitting his head against the hard leather and wood paneling, he didn’t move.

 

Young Vein was at his side the second the car stopped, grabbing his shoulders and checking his head.

 

Baby Snake jumped out of the car without opening the door and Mona leaped after him, following him up the side of the dune, angry and in disbelief.

 

Young Vein watched them go before turning back to Glass, gripping his shoulders and looking over the spot he had hit his head on the car door. 

 

Sticky with blood.

 

Thankfully not too much.

 

“Glass?” He held Glass’ head upright when it kept lolling to one side, “Glass, come on, wake up.”

 

Glass’ eyelids fluttered and he mumbled under his breath,  _ “...Brendon.” _

 

“Brendon?” Vein repeated, “Brendon! Come on Brendon, if you pass out it’ll do more harm than good.”

 

_ “No… let’s… out.” _ Glass pointed up at the dune and began to move to exit the Cherry, his fingers clumsy on the lock.

 

“Here,” Young Vein hopped out and opened the door, grabbing Glass under the arms when he tried to stand, “We need to patch that up.” Glass winced.

 

“Loud…”

 

“Right, sorry,” Young Vein nodded and led him past the dune and up the small hill.

 

Baby Snake stood there with Mona, who berated him as he stared at an abandoned campfire and campsite, the only trace of people being the thin wisp of smoke that was already dying.

 

“See?!” Mona yelled in his face, “You could have fucking killed us! You already almost killed Glass!” He pointed at Vein and Glass, who swayed where he stood, “You’ve been driving for  _ days _ , Snake!”

 

Baby Snake tightens his shoulders.

 

“We need to stop, we need-”

 

“Okay.”

 

“No! Snake-” Mona paused, taken aback, “What?”

 

“Okay,” Baby Snake repeated, “Let’s just… Let’s just rest here.”

 

Mona straightened, “Well, thanks, I guess… I mean, I was seeing something different, happening.”

 

Young Vein sighed heavily, but smiled, “Is there ever a day we can go without hearing about _the sight?”_

 

Glass smiled.

 

“Maybe you should actually listen sometimes!” Mona snapped back, calming down, “It might keep you out of trouble!”

 

Baby Snake rubbed his face and gave Mona a weak smile, “What are you, psychic or some shit?”

 

“No!” Mona hesitated, “I don’t know! My mom never really called it anything…”

 

_ “So what…” _ Glass let out a breathy laugh,  _ “What number am I thinking of?” _

 

Young Vein snorted and Mona kicked sand at them, “Shut the hell up! It doesn’t work that way, fucker!” Glass let out a real laugh, letting go of Young Vein and kicking sand back.

 

_ “What kind of psychic are you then?” _

 

* * *

 

 

The moon refused to return as they set up the old blankets, found in the trunk as a place to sleep, next to the small fire that was set up in the same place they had found it. Baby Snake and Glass shared a blanket, while Young Vein and Mona Lisa set up across from them.

 

Baby Snake dug a can of beans out of the trunk and dodged the sand being thrown his way when he began to cook it, the sand being used to voice their anger over having to eat Power Pup for so long.

 

Glass finally ate, saying he forgave Baby Snake for the head wound, which they had patched up with a bandage that wrapped around his forehead.

 

“I, um…” Young Vein licked his lips and took the rag out of his pocket, “I gotta tell you…” He looked up at Glass, “This was… Brent’s, well, sort of, it wasn’t _ special  _ or anything.” Mona looked at him, encouraging.

 

_ “Oh,” _ Glass nodded,  _ “Where is he now?” _

 

“He died,” Vein answered, “I just… thought I would let you know... if I seemed angry.”

 

Glass nodded,  _ “Thank you.” _

 

“Well,” Mona smiled, “I’m going to bed.” He flipped onto his back, “This was sweet and all but friendship makes me tired.”

 

Baby Snake snorts, “Me too.”

 

_ “I, uh…” _ Glass stood,  _ “I’m going to sleep in the Cherry.”  _ They watched him go.

 

Baby Snake wiped his eyes, “I’ll try and snap him out of it before we get going,” He said, after Glass made his way down, “I know he’s… you know, but I want him to be awake when we find Brobeck.”

 

“Mm,” Young Vein agreed.

 

“Hey, Mona,” Baby Snake ventured, “You can drive tomorrow.”

 

“What?!” Mona turned onto his stomach, “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah,” Baby Snake stared up at the starry sky.

 

“Man…” Mona flipped back onto his back, “Thanks.”

 

Baby Snake was snoring after only a couple of minutes.

 

“It was twelve, by the way.” Mona weaved his fingers and put them under his head.

 

“What?” Young Vein crinkled his nose.

 

“The number Glass was thinking of- Ow!”

 

Young Vein had smacked him.

 

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” Mona laughed and moved onto his side, facing away from Vein, and mumbled to himself, “It was actually  _ eight…” _

 

Young Vein snorted.

 

He didn’t dream, and he finally woke up when the sun had already risen, still low in the sky but past the horizon. 

 

He wondered what had woken him up from his slumber as he tried to see out the cracks between his eyelashes, about to fall back asleep when he heard it.

 

A shuffling sound, going through his bag to right.

 

Slowly, his hand crept up to where he had lain his mask and gun, his fingers curling over the grip, then quick as a flash he turned and pointed it at a short, curly haired boy who stumbled back in fear as soon as he turned.

 

“Stop right there!” Young Vein growled, resting his finger on the trigger. The boy’s eyes were wide with fear as he showed Vein his palms. Mona Lisa was startled awake, fumbling for his ray-gun and blinking in the sunlight.

 

“Yeah!” Mona mumbled, “Stop-! What… What he said!”

 

Baby Snake was still asleep.

 

Young Vein kept his ray-gun pointed at the boy as he stood up, yawning, “Who… What are you doing?”

 

The boy shook his head, “I’m just…” He glanced between Mona and Vein, “I’m just a Runner! I swear! Not even that, I’m like… a scavenger!” He squeezed his eyes shut in fear, “Please don’t shoot, I just… I thought you were dead… Yeah, and… so I was looting!”

 

Mona Lisa sat up, “You thought we were dead?” He gestured to Baby Snake, “With that guy snoring?”

 

“Oh, god…” The boy whimpered, “I was just looking for stuff to trade with, oh, fuck oh fuck-”

 

“Whatever,” Young Vein lowered his gun, “We’re not gonna shoot you, holy hell.”

 

The boy breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the ground.

 

Mona laid back down, groaning, and Baby Snake finally rubbed his eyes awake, and turned around, murmuring under his breath about waking up too early. Then he caught sight of the boy and he snapped awake, “Ian?!”

 

Young Vein was putting his gun back on his waist but swung back around when he heard Baby Snake’s exclamation. “You know this guy?!”

 

“Yeah! This idiot  _ kleptomaniac _ comes to the Shithole all the time! Brobeck always-” He paused, “Brobeck invites him in and I have to follow him around or he’ll steal!”

 

“I am not a klepto!” Ian stood quickly, “I just… My fingers itch and I have to… I don’t know! I have to take it!”

 

“So, stealing.” Mona Lisa muttered from his spot on the blanket.

 

“Whatever, just…” Baby Snake yawned again, “How the hell are you… here? Last I heard of you, Tommy Chow Mein was making you pay a big debt or something.”

 

“Paid it off,” Ian shoved his hands into his pockets, “Fucking finally,” He clarified to Mona and Vein, “He caught me lifting some shit from his store, don’t know why he got so mad, it was just some tiny stuff… And I’m here cause I wanna be!”

 

Baby Snake tsked and crossed his arms like he didn’t believe it.

 

Mona Lisa’s eyes popped open, “Say, Ian,” He stood and dusted himself off, “How long have you been walking?”

 

“A couple of days,” Ian shrugged, “Why?”

 

“Just in this zone?”

 

“I don’t know, all over, I guess?” Ian frowned, “Seriously, why?”

 

“Have you…” Mona glanced at Baby Snake, “Seen anyone else? Like-”

 

“Have you seen Brobeck?” Baby Snake finally interrupted, and Ian frowned even more.

 

“Well, geez, I don’t know, I’ve passed through a few camps and stuff, he wasn’t in any of those…” He thought for a moment, then clapped his hands together, “I did pass an abandoned camp, though!”

 

“There’s hundreds of those,” Baby Snake sighed.

 

“No okay…” Ian thought, “I don’t know how to…” He gasped, “You could go to Zone 1! There’s a Dead Pegasus station, there are a couple of guys I go to when I’m looking for something, I’ll lead you there!”

 

“And have you steal my car?” Baby Snake shook his head, “No way.”

 

“Oh, come on!” Ian deflated, “I need to get to Zone 1! I won’t steal anything, and maybe you can find Brobeck… Please? I won’t even ask why he’s gone like I want to.”

 

“I say we go,” Mona finally stood, “It’s honestly the only thing we have before we just call Dr. D and ask to make an announcement.” Ian smiled and Baby Snake looked at Vein.

 

“What do you think?”

 

Vein shrugged, “Do we have any other options?”

 

* * *

 

 

Mona Lisa drove like Baby Snake promised he could, and Ian and Young Vein sat in the back with Glass. Who had woken up as soon as they climbed into the car. Ian avoided him like the plague, squeezing against the opposite side of the backseat and used Young Vein as a divider.

 

Glass was quiet, his eyes glassy and his face blank.

 

He had been catching rays before they had started the car, but his wake up call had cut it short.

 

After an agonizing few minutes in silence, Young Vein turned to him, “Are you okay? You seem-”

 

_ “I’m tired,” _ Glass interrupted,  _ “And I’m… I don’t know.” _

 

He spoke quietly, so quiet that Vein had to strain to hear him, he seemed different, in the way he said it, it made Young Vein slightly queasy.

 

Then Glass blinked and the blankness in his eyes was gone, he looked at Vein.

 

_ “I can’t put things together, you know?” _

 

Young Vein nodded, glad he could recognize him again.

 

“Hey, Glass…” Vein looked down at his hands, he could feel the rag in his back pocket, “Do you… Are you from the city?”

 

Glass frowned, but nodded, _ “Yes.” _

 

“Do you know about the Outskirts?”

 

Again, Glass nodded.

 

“That’s where I’m from,” Young Vein paused to look at Mona and Baby Snake, who were arguing with Ian about something that had to do with the tires and steering. “That’s where Brent and I were from.”

 

_ “But didn’t the Outskirts…?” _ Glass tilted his head, confused,  _ “Didn’t they burn?” _

 

“Yeah,” Young Vein sighed, “The Outskirts and the Outer Lobby, nobody knows why, or how.”

 

_ “Why are you telling me?” _

 

“I was telling you about Brent,” Young Vein hesitated, “You’re my friend, I mean Mona and Green Man know, I figured-”

 

_ “No, why would you just tell me?” _ Glass asked, taken aback, his voice was more hoarse than usual.

 

“Because… Maybe you would understand? I mean, why I’ve so guarded lately…” Young Vein shook his head, “People started disappearing, before the fire too, it just… reminded me-”

 

_ “I didn’t want to hear it,” _ Glass reluctantly crossed his arms,  _ “What made you think I wanted to talk about the city?” _

 

Young Vein glanced back at Mona and the rest, still preoccupied. “But… you said you were from there-”

 

_ “Yes,” _ Glass nodded, _ “I still didn’t want to know, and I wasn’t from the outskirts, so I wouldn't understand!” _ The blankness in his eyes had returned, with someone Young Vein couldn’t recognize.

 

“Then I’m-” Young Vein stared, confused, at Glass, “Whatever’s happened to you since last night… I don’t care, I just want it to stop.”

 

He couldn’t walk away in a moving car, but as Young Vein watched Glass stay blank, he joined Ian and Mona’s argument. Trying to ignore the stranger in the seat next to him.

 

_ “I think you travel to search and you come back home to find yourself there.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I squeezed every possible plot point in this chapter in the last half? tsk tsk.  
> Also, I found some really old notes I made for Radiation Point a long time ago, before I even started writing, I can't even remember what this series was supposed to be before I actually ironed it out (yeah right) back then.  
> Apparently, Brent was supposed to be an even bigger part of the story! Something about malfunctioning droids and Brendon being like, I don't even know, he might have been my original vessel for Sandman. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Some major stuff went on in this, even if you can't see it at first.


	9. Youth

 

_ “Doubt is like a current you have to swim against, one that saps your strength.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Victoria Schwab _ _ ,  _ _ The Unbound _

 

He awakens, sitting next to a post outside a Dead Pegasus gas station.

 

He isn’t…  _ awake _ , though.

 

Not really.

 

He can feel the waves, clouding his mind and filling him with warmth.

 

He hasn’t been truly awake since that day back at the Shithole, wrapping up Black Card’s wounds and telling Baby Snake about Brobeck’s disappearance.

 

She was there.

 

In the distance.

 

She wasn’t wearing the dress, just jeans and a white t-shirt that fluttered in the breeze.

 

He loved Her in that way, more than the dress.

 

He remembers she had a cold once, a high fever.

 

She could barely eat and would walk around the apartment they had shared in a fog, dense and heavy, weighing down on her shoulders and making her shiver. She had told him that people would turn to stone if they looked at her, She was so horrific.

 

He told Her,  _ “You could conquer nations, you’re so stunning.” _

 

“At least you think so.” She smiled.

 

She was next to him now.

 

Talking, just talking.

 

She was going to be a therapist. He remembers how much She would talk about it. She wanted to be like her uncle, who helped people through their lives.

 

She wanted to help people.

 

She sat next to him, weaving her fingers through his own, sometimes, she would rest her head against his shoulder, and be silent, staring out into the desert.

 

It wasn’t really her.

 

The thought struck him.

 

He hated it.

 

Maybe it wasn’t really  _ him _ either.

 

Like what he had done in the car when Young Vein had tried to connect with him.

 

That couldn’t have been him.

 

It was Glass.

 

A broken and cracked version of himself, making it’s unwelcome way to the surface.

 

He asked himself again.

 

_ Who was he anymore? _

 

She squeezed his hand, tight.

 

Too tight.

 

His fingers bent in awkward places and he tried pulling away, looking at Her, or the place she had been seconds before.

 

She was in front of him, nearly sitting in his lap, holding his head between her hands, her fingers tangled in his hair. “ _ Shh…” _

 

She kissed his burnt cheeks and smiles.

 

He smiles too, reaching up to run his fingers through her hair.

 

She grabs it, squeezing again.

 

Still smiling.

 

_ “She would be horrified.” _

 

He stops. “What?”

 

_ “She would be disgusted,” _ She digs her nails into his skin,  _ “She would hate you, you’ve replaced her.” _

 

Her nails had gotten sharper, and turned gray, there’s blood, dripping from his hand and trailing down his wrists, he can’t pull away. “Please-!” He writhes, struggling against her grip as her lips crack and turn gray, infecting her skin and turning her eyes yellow. “Let go of me!”

 

She holds tighter, this time grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him against the column.

 

_ “Too bad I never got to meet her,” _ She bares her pointed gray teeth and she’s not Her, anymore, They speak again: _ “Then I would have gotten the chance to tell her what a sssssick bastard you are.” _

 

The gray swirls up the skin on their arms and they laugh, sounding just like Her for a second, it disappears and She’s gone.

 

_ “What did you think of my work?” _ They tilt their head,  _ “Back in the Cherry? I finally got that annoying guy off your back.” _

 

“Wha-” He chokes.

 

_ “I was getting tired of his talk.”  _ They smooth their hair back, glancing at the rings on their fingers,  _ “Sssssob sssstory after ssssob sssstory.” _

 

“You-?” He coughs, “Why would you-?”

 

_ “It was fun,” _ They interrupted, _ “It was my first time, you know, I popped my cherry, but… It wasn’t all me, you were still there, sssssspreading your sssssickness.” _

 

He began to cry, nearly suffocated under Their grip.

 

They let go.

 

_ “I wish I was the only one.” _

 

Their gold eyes narrowed.

 

_ “I need… no, I  _ deserve _ , to be the one in control…” _ They looked him up and down as he pulled air back into his lungs.  _ “Not you, God knows-” _ They paused, _ “Let me rephrase,  _ god  _ knows, you can’t handle yourself, I mean, how many timessssss have you keeled over in tearsssss?” _

 

He couldn’t speak, there was a rock in his throat, pressing against his vocal chords.

 

_ “Then there’s another problem,”  _ They stared at him,  _ “The other one, sssssshe hidessssss from me, oh I can’t wait to press my handssssss over her throat-”   _ They stop, looking out into the desert, then they rush back to his side, pulling a knife from nowhere and pressing it against his throat, he gargles, trying to move away his eyes wide in terror.

 

_ “Sssshe’ssss in there isn’t sssshe?” _ The knife draws a pinprick of blood from his throat,  _ “Lisssstening? Where are you?” _ They search Glass’ eyes,  _ “I will  _ **_kill her!_ ** _ I will kill you  _ **_SSSSARAH!”_ **

 

Glass finally pulls himself away, wanting to run, instead he scrambles back.

 

Her name filled his head and  **They** pause, tilting his head from side to side, like a bird.

 

Then  **They’re** at his side, smiling wildly.

 

_ “I know how to get her attention.” _

 

The knife is in his heart.

 

* * *

 

 

He gasps awake, grasping at the air and clutching his stomach.

 

Water had been poured over his head.

 

A blond man holds the bottle, “Are you Glass?” He asks, sounding guilty.

 

He blinks, looking around.

 

“I…” He croaks, looking down at his dusty shirt, expecting blood, a knife, anything.

 

Nothing.

 

“Yes?”

 

The blond man nods, “Okay, okay good, your friends said that you might want to hear this.”

 

“What-?” He coughs, his lips cracking, “What is it about?”

 

“About your friend,” The man answers, “Brobeck?”

 

The name sends him spiraling, falling against the wall.

 

“What-?” He remembers the man’s name is Kurt, “What did you-?” He’s standing, how is he standing where did  **They** go?

 

“Brobeck,” Kurt repeats. His thoughts stop.

 

Glass follows him to the other side of the gas station, trying to put together the puzzle pieces that scatter themselves in his memory.

 

Young Vein met his gaze as he approached the table, cards were scattered and a bottle of alcohol stood solitary in the middle.

 

Baby Snake nodded at him and Mona Lisa nervously shuffled through the cards.

 

Ian stood off to the side, his fingers twitching.

 

“To continue,” The black haired man at the center sighed, his name was Billie, “I might have seen the guy you described, tall, sharp face, brown hair-”

 

“And a blue cat.” Baby Snake interrupted, and Billie nodded.

 

“Then I definitely saw him,” He leaned against the table, “In the Market, near Tommy’s place, and he was with another guy…”

 

“What did he look like?” Baby Snake asked.

 

“Shorter than your friend, and older, like older than me, I thought that was impossible.” Billie gives a small smile, which disappeared quickly, “He was asking around, for neutrals and shit, I think they skipped out of town pretty fast.”

 

Baby Snake frowned, “What would Brobeck be doing with him?”

 

The man with dyed green hair leaned back in his chair, smirking, “Maybe he’s like… one of those noir detectives,” He put his feet up on the table, “Asking all those questions.”

 

His friend with pierced ears rubbed his face, “Tre…” Baby Snake ignored him.

 

“Why was he asking about neutrals?” He leaned forward, “What do they want?”

 

“Listen, I don’t know,” Billie shook his head, “You can ask Tommy, I know that they headed into his shop once and that’s all.” He waved his hand non-committedly.

 

Glass didn’t like Tommy Chow Mein, he was sleazy and drove Glass off his property more than once, wasting water and yelling in his ear.

 

Baby Snake turned to Young Vein, trying to organize his thoughts, I think we’ll have better luck trying to find Benzedrine and Lover again than getting answers out of Tommy.” Young Vein nodded and Mona leaned into input. 

 

Ian looked back and forth Glass and the building, his fingers shaking until he grabbed them, pressing his thumbs into his palms. Glass frowned, and so did Tre, and Billie, who leaned toward Baby Snake.

 

“You said Benzedrine?”

 

Baby Snake nodded, “Uh yeah? Why?”

 

Billie hesitated, “Look if you know Dr. Benzedrine, I’ll definitely help you out, fuck, I’ll hold the gun to Tommy’s head myself if you actually know that kid.”

 

“We know Benzedrine.” Glass finally spoke, looking down at old bandages, “He patched me up.”

 

“Well, where is he?” Tre frowned.

 

“He skipped out after Hyper Thrust with his friends,” Young Vein crossed his arms, “They went looking for the Scarecrow.” Billie nodded. “Wait, how do you know him?” Young Vein asked, confused.

 

“We… picked him up a while back,” Mike, Tre and Billie’s friend, grabbed the stack of cards and began to shuffle them, “He hung around for a while, glad to hear he’s finally going after that revenge he always talked about.”

 

“So… you’ll help us now?” Baby Snake looked disbelieving.

 

“Just in the market,” Billie put his hand up in a ‘stop’ symbol.

 

“Oh shit yeah,” Tre giggled, “We don’t wanna get  _ too _ active, people might think we’re coming out of retirement.”

 

“I think Dave and Krist spread those rumors.” Billie smiled back at him then turned back to Baby Snake, “But yeah, I’ll go with you, just to make sure you get on the right track.”

 

Ian finally hurried past the table, knocking into it with his hip and shoving his hands in his pockets, “Right! Let’s go! Let’s get in the car and drive!”

 

Without much opposition, Billie makes his way to the cherry and squeezes in the front with Mona and Baby Snake, clicking the settings on his ray gun, an old, dusty one with stars and stripes painted on.

 

Ian pressed against Glass in the middle, leaning away from Young Vein as the Cherry started up. “Hey,” Ian spoke quietly and Glass frowned.

 

“What… What happened?” He tried to whisper along with him, but it came out rasping and harsh.

 

“Can you…” Ian pulled his hand out of his pocket and shoved something into Glass’s chest, “Hold this for me?”

 

It was an incomplete stack of cards, stained brown and red, the King of Spades laid on top.

 

“What?” Glass glanced up at Billie and Mona who were making conversation with their shoulders pressed together.

 

“I took it from them, not very well I don’t think, I mean, usually I’m not as obvious but…” Ian looks embarrassed, “I don’t know! My fingers were like burning, I needed to grab something!”

 

“Why give them to me?” Glass wants to sound more astonished.

 

“Because… I don’t know, I don’t like holding onto this shit, I always take and I want to be caught, but if I’m caught who knows how…”He pointed at Billie’s back, “Will react? Thieves get killed for this shit out here man! But it’s not like  _ I want _ to steal!” Glass finally takes the cards, shoving them in his pocket, Ian gives him a look of desperate thanks.

 

“I’ll give them back later.”

 

“You have no idea what this means man,” Ian places a hand on Glass’ shoulder but quickly whips it away, “Don’t tell Baby Snake, please? If he finds out I’m stealing he’ll toss me out of this car, I’m serious, that’s why I’m helping you! Brobeck is way nicer, he lets me take stuff from the Shithole, I swear, he knows how guilt gets me.”

 

Ian is selfish.

 

A fact that Glass finds it harder and harder to ignore.

 

Brobeck wouldn’t have seen it.

 

Or maybe he would have.

 

Glass doesn’t know anymore.

 

The cards pressed against his leg the rest of the trip.

 

Tommy Chow Mein’s shop was just as Glass remembered it.

 

Except it was pink.

 

An ugly shade had been spray-painted over the slats and dusty, torn, plastic flowers had been placed more generously over the front. Either they were a gift, over Tommy’s own terrible design idea Glass would never know.

 

Young Vein and Mona Lisa split away from the group to ask around the market, and Glass almost offered to go with them but the look Young Vein gave him was blank and unwelcoming. His voice caught in his throat.

 

Tommy was just as unwelcoming, scowling behind his desk as they entered, and shooting Ian suspicious looks when he stood by a shelf of merchandise.

 

Baby Snake rushed up to him, placing his hands on the desk and leaning over, “Have you seen, or talked to a… a tall guy? Brown hair? He had a blue stuffed animal with him?”

 

Tommy gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, crossing his arms before saying: “Info is thirty carbons.”

 

Billie didn’t hesitate to take his ray-gun out of its holster and pointing it at Tommy’s head, and Ian quickly covered his eyes. When there was no bang or flash of light, his cheeks went up in flames that Glass could almost  _ see _ .

 

Tommy gave a deep, long-suffering sigh. “Twenty-five carbons then.”

 

“Lower,” Billie said, pointing the gun at Tommy’s eye, “It’s not hard.”

 

Tommy glanced at Baby Snake and Glass could see his stone face crack just a little. Enough for him to say: “Ten.”

 

Baby Snake hurriedly went through his pockets, sneaking looks at Billie, who had lowered his gun and was tossing Tommy a sharp look that was almost bragging.

 

Tommy took Baby Snake’s money. “You’re asking about Socialite and Stardust.”

 

“Socialite?” Baby Snake frowned.

 

“Yeah, he had the blue cat thing, and Stardust, he’s a geezer, they were asking about neutrals.”

 

“Can you tell me what you told them?” Baby Snake crossed his arms to keep from tapping his fingers nervously and Glass crept closer to listen.

 

“General stuff, where to find neutrals and shit like that, since they’re pretty much loners.”

 

“Did they ask for anything specific?” Billie asked, tilting his head.

 

“Stardust did all the talking, but he asked about groups close to the city, something he called the ‘Settlement’.”

 

“And?” Baby Snake pressed, “What did you say?”

 

“Nothing, I don’t know anything about any ‘settlements’” Tommy shrugged, finally settling back into his blank-faced costume, “That’s all I can give you.”

 

Ian finally pocketed something and Tommy shot out from behind the desk to squeeze his arm, kicking the rest of them out as he bruised Ian’s arm and forced him to pay for the trinket he had lifted.

 

A small, antique mouse with wheels for feet, so rusty it seemed to squeak for real.

 

They sat on a wooden slat deck in the shade of a trader's stall, waiting for Young Vein and Mona Lisa. Ian occupied his time by pulling on the mouse by its string tail, making it squeak backward in almost glee.

 

“We asked around,” Mona scratched his head when they returned, “And got some more supplies… They didn’t have much to say except to comment on his height….”

 

“But,” Young Vein sat down to wave away the heat, “There was an old lady that says this Stardust guy might have gone East in a borrowed truck he got from Show Pony’s place.”

 

“Shit,” Baby Snake clenched his fists, “They’ll be faster now.”

 

Billie sighed, “I think… You should wait.”

 

Baby Snake looked up at him, “What?”

 

“I know, whatever, I mean I’m only owing you this favor because you know Dr. Benzedrine and I don’t even know your friend… But I think you should wait.”

 

“Wait for what?” Mona Lisa moved to sit near Glass, something he appreciated.

 

“I don’t know, but I think you guys maybe are ignoring the fact that… well, maybe your friend doesn’t want to found yet.”

 

“I can’t just stop, Bille!” Baby Snake’s voice went up an octave, “I… I can’t just wait… it doesn’t matter, Young Vein, you said East?” 

 

Young Vein shrugged.

 

Mona Lisa glanced at Glass, “He’s right Snake, let’s stop again, camp in with the rest of the Runners at the Pile.”

 

The Pile was a deck, just like the one they were sitting on now, except it was on the edge of the market, and sagging from the weight of hundreds of sleeping Runners from throughout the years.

 

“I am _ not _ … _ ” _ Baby Snake was at a loss, staring at his exhausted friends, “I’ve  _ done that! _ I’ve  _ waited! _ I’ve rested! The only thing I haven’t done is _ find him! _ ”

 

Mona Lisa laid back, looking up at the blue sky. Glass joined him. “You really agree with Billie?” He asked.

 

“Yeah,” Mona sighed, “I’m getting a feeling.”

 

“A  _ feeling, _ ” Baby Snake scoffed, stomping off of the deck, “A  _ feeling!” _

 

“I’ll follow him.” Young Vein muttered, leaving Ian and Billie behind with Glass and Mona.

 

“They’re asking around again,” Billie squinted after them, “Or going back to the Cherry, he won’t leave without you, though, I should head back.”

 

“What!?” Ian asked, incredulous, “You said you would stay!”

 

“Until you got a lead, yeah,” Billie countered, “And you have one! East, to find a settlement! Your friend needs to calm down and he’ll see that, even when it looks shitty right now. You’ll find your friend, but it’s obviously not gonna happen right away.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re not gonna come to the Pile?” Mona Lisa gave him a look of concern.

 

“No, they won’t want me.”

 

Glass remembers once before, people policed the Pile, as if it were something more than a few slats of wood on the ground. They charged carbons for it and Glass had given them all he had, then they turned him away saying: “Bathers can’t sleep here, you think we want that bullshit spreading to us?”

 

They kicked sand at him.

 

He hadn’t even gotten burns yet, but they recognized him by his eyes, already glazed over from radiation.

 

He doesn’t want it repeated.

 

He leaves Mona and Ian be without elaborating, choosing instead to walk through the market. Past closed stalls and candlelit games of Blackjack and other games they made up.

 

He takes out his own half-deck from his pocket, still confused over Ian's refusal to keep it. He swipes his fingers over the top of the deck, letting the plastic snap back into place.

 

“Hey, you have cards?” A boy steps out from under a dim lamps light, smiling. His hair is curly, and he’s almost as skinny as Glass. He wears a mask covered in detailed paintings of clouds.

 

“Um, yeah,” Glass shows him, “But not a full deck.”

 

“That’s okay, we could play Fish or something?” He shrugs, “If you want, I’m just looking for something to do, no one else will let me play with them ‘cause I’m Angel Food or something.” He gestures to the other games, filled with scattered laughter and booze.

 

Glass hesitates, “Okay,” He shrugs, “Let’s play Fish.”

 

“Shiny! My name’s Wild Blue,” Wild Blue gives him a hand and they shake.

 

“Glass.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Glass!” Wild Blue takes the cards, ecstatic, and leads him to a cardboard box he had set down in front of a stall selling blankets. He began splitting the small deck between them for Fish and Glass looked over his cards, noticing the stains and rips and bent areas, along with other strange things.

 

Writing.

 

In ink, maybe a pen, spelling out faded messages that Glass could barely read.

 

_ aRe yoU _____S? _

 

_ Make me ___  _

 

_ A_K NI__NA SHE DOE___ _

 

_ cALL jOAn! _

 

“Any threes?” Wild Blue asked, breaking Glass out of his fog.

 

“Um, yes, here.” He handed Blue the three of hearts.

 

“What a dime!” Blue celebrated, “Now you.”

 

“Okay…” Glass turned to the card that read:  _ cALL jOAn!  _ “Do you have any sixes?”

 

“Fish!” Blue smiled and Glass grimaced in fake annoyance, looking up at Blue and grabbing a card from the deck.

 

The Queen of Clubs.

 

_ GeT JoaN… On THe PhONE _

 

Written on the edge.

 

The Queen stared up at him through sarcastic, lidded eyes.

 

“How about… fours?”

 

Glass shook his head, “Fish.”

 

Blue pursed his lips and took a card.

 

“Do have any…” Glass though for a moment, “Twos?”

 

“Right here,” Blue mocked sadness as he handed Glass the card.

 

Two of spades.

 

_ DO You EvEn OWN a _____ _

 

The ending was scratched out.

 

They continued the game.

 

Glass might have been winning.

 

He fished for another card.

 

King of Spades.

 

His fat face was fading.

 

Inside the collar of his extravagant outfit it read:  _ CaLL #! QueEn of HeARt’s!  _ Followed by a series of exclamation points.

 

“Um…” Glass paused, “Do have the Queen of Hearts?”

 

“What?” Blue smiled, “That’s cheating-”

 

“No, I’m asking, I want to see it..”

 

“Uh yeah sure, here.” Blue handed him a card.

 

The Queen of Hearts.

 

Somebody had inked her up, adding messy tattoos to her arms and devil horns on her forehead. Her face remained the same, smug and royal.

 

No messages.

 

He turned it over.

 

Blue tilted his head.

 

Written in black, almost blending in with the blue designs:   
  
_ JoAN!!!! SetTLEmEnt 4!!! ###: _

 

_                      555-7692-8889 _

 

_ GeT STitCHEs BITCHES _

 

Settlement four.

 

Glass stood.

 

“I have to go.”

 

“What?” Blue stood, pouting, “No! Our game!”

 

“I’m really sorry,” Glass backed away, “It was fun but I gotta go…”

 

“But your deck-”

 

“Keep it,” Glass waved goodbye, “I don’t… I don’t need it…”

 

“Oh, okay.” Blue waved, “Thanks I guess?”

 

The Pile was a snoring mass of sweat and leather, it almost made Glass’ eyes water as he walked around the outside, trying to see Mona or Ian in the mess. 

 

Someone grabbed his ankle and he whipped around, gasping and trying to pull himself free.

 

“Whoah, whoah, Glass, it’s me.” Mona was lying half under a few other people dressed in denim, and he blinked up at Glass, “What are you here for?”

 

“I found something, it’s-”   
  


“I knew it!” Mona began pulling himself out, causing a low groan to travel around the Pile, “I knew I felt something! Ian’s over here,” He hurried a few feet away, “Ian!” He whispered, “Get up!”

 

Ian jolted awake, “The mouse!” He whispered fiercely.

 

“What?” Mona asked, “Shut up it’s in your pocket!”

 

“Where’s Baby Snake?” Glass asked as Ian clambered out of the Pile, “In the Cherry?”

 

“Yeah, but why do you need him?” Ian dug the mouse out his pocket.

 

Glass was already making his way back to the Cherry, parked away from the market behind a dune and still shining in the low moonlight.

 

Baby Snake was camped in the front seat, while Young Vein sprawled out in the back.

 

Glass, in a moment of clarity he wished would come more often, grabbed Baby Snake by the shoulders and shoved the card in his face, “Wake up! You wanted a lead right?”

 

Baby Snake pushed him off, angry and tired, scowling as Glass shoved the card in his face, “We can call this number! To a settlement, just like Tommy said! You don’t have to be angry anymore!”

 

The last part came out more as a demand than he had wanted, but Snake took the card all the same, digging a flashlight out of the glove compartment that flickered as he pointed it at the message on the card.

 

“Settlement Four…” He muttered, “I know where that is.” He looked up at Glass, “I didn’t even think about it back at Tommy’s but… I know where it is.”

 

Young Vein frowned in the back seat, still blurry from sleep, and Glass met his gaze.

 

_ “Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Alexander Pope _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals week and just plain bad days guys! Don't worry, though, I hope you liked this chapter!


	10. Patience

  


_“It was strange how she found out, One moment she didn't know; the next minute she did. One moment her mind was as blank as the desert; the next minute the snake of suspicion had slithered into her thoughts and raised its poisonous head.”_

_―_ _Thrity Umrigar_ _,_ _The Space Between Us_

 

Patrick did his best to ignore the feeling.

 

From the moment he had helped pack up the truck and leave the bar and say goodbye to the Artist Formerly Known, there had been an underlying shadow in the background of his thoughts. Most of it centered around Dahvie Vanity.

 

He wasn’t the most sinister person Patrick could think of, that position was reserved for The Scarecrow, but simply looking at Dahvie for too long put him on edge.

 

To add to that, the Bat Rat, Josh, kept giving him weird looks.

 

Lightning was unbothered by Dahvie, joking and laughing with him like they had known each other for years. Crash was the same, but wouldn’t look him in the eye the same way Lightning could.

 

Patrick could barely talk to him at first, he could only stare at Dahvie’s teeth, filed and ugly and stained. Dahvie obviously liked he had this affect on people.

 

Hayley avoided him like the plague, even going so far as to skip the chat around the fire to go straight to bed in the truck. “I just don’t like him okay?” She had snapped at Patrick, “I don’t like how he stares at me.”

 

In any other situation, Patrick would kick Dahvie out of their party just for that reason.

 

But it was Hayley who had told him to hold off, she had gripped his arm that night, the moon reflecting in her eyes and giving her an almost ethereal quality.

 

“I don’t trust him, but you can’t kick him out, not yet…” She frowned, “I’m just nervous, he has to lead us to Celluloid.”

 

Patrick nodded, “Just until Celluloid.”

 

“How much longer do you think it will be?” Crash finally asked Dahvie after three days. “Because I’m seeing a whole lot of nothing.”

 

Dahvie smiled his almost feral grin, “I told you, it’s far East and in Zone 3.”

 

“So what the fuck are we in Zone 4 for?” Lightning sighed, reclining in the bed of the truck. Crash and Hayley were in the cab, including Tyler, who sat in the small seat that usually held the cup holders.

 

Dahvie shrugged, “We’re just on the edge, and I’m more familiar with the area, we’ll get into 3 soon.”

 

His argument was taken apart after another hour, however, when Crash pulled the truck over and twisted to slide the window open to talk to the rest of them. Tyler, unfortunately, had to move to accommodate and squished Hayley up against the side of the cab, it gave Lightning and Josh something to giggle over for a second.

 

Dahvie tilted his head, “Why’d you stop?”

 

“I didn’t think of it until now,” Crash finally sighed and exited the cab to talk, climbing into the bed and letting Tyler and Hayley listen from the window, “But, you remember the signs we passed right? I think they were a few miles back?”

 

Farther than a few miles back, but Patrick remembered dust covered signs sported the Better Living logo, some had been spray-painted over with graffiti, others had been left open to show off Japanese kanji. Patrick could only understand one word:

 

警告 !

 

_Warning!_

 

“I don’t really get Japanese,” Crash continued, “But my mom tried teaching me… I was reading it when we stopped and…” He trailed off, searching his pockets, then asking for one minute as he scurried back into the cab, reaching over Hayley to grab a notebook out of the glove compartment. The broken pencil he had been looking for was found in his back pocket.

 

“Let me see if I can remember it…” He chewed on the end of the pencil and Patrick glanced at Lightning, and they exchanged a look that didn’t really have a meaning.

 

Crash paused, then showed Patrick the notebook, “So… these are the kanji I remember, I mean there’s more, but these stand for Sinkholes.”

 

シンクホール

 

Patrick frowned, “Okay…?”

 

“And-” Crash added a few more symbols, “This is the one for sand-”

 

砂

 

“And rock-”

 

岩

 

“And there was this last one…” Crash scratched the back of his neck, “I can’t really remember it, but I think it said ‘over’ which I didn’t really think about until now, but I remembered…” He trails away again, waving his hands as a way to disregard his own words.

 

“No, what was it?” Lightning leaned forward.

 

“My dad…” Crash smiled at Lightning in gratitude, “I think he… no, his brother, was in the Helium Wars… or something, but, I remembered he had these stories that he got from his brother about how the sand and the wind would hurt more than the sun out here, and how it buries almost everything like they would wake up and be under of half a foot of it…” He thinks for a moment, most likely trying to piece it together himself.

 

“But there were times where it would cover _everything_ ,” Crash gestured wildly, “Like whole neighborhoods I mean, covered really loosely with sand and rock and…” He scribbles into the notebook, hesitating, “I think he would have nightmares about it, my uncle, I mean, about people sinking into it.”

 

“Like quicksand?” Josh frowned.

 

Crash shook his head and shrugged, “I don’t know.”

 

“I do,” Dahvie smiled his shark-like grin, “I’ve seen it before, with a gang I used to travel with.”

 

The phrase makes Patrick’s spine itch.

 

“I think it happened to a few Exterminators we fought with a few other runners,” Dahvie’s gaze is fixed on Crash, “They were worshippers of a guy called the Sandman, and ended up burying the Exos alive… But we also saw another group… They sank.”

 

“They sank?” Patrick frowned at him, his whole body tensing.

 

Dahvie nodded, unbothered, “They weren’t careful, they rushed, and they sank.”

 

* * *

 

 

Another sign greeted them in the next few miles, decorated with purple and green spray paint. Someone had dotted the Better Living logo’s eyes red and made it’s smile gruesome, Patrick hoped it was paint as well.

 

The Japanese kanji was left open for all to see, probably an attempt to help from a fellow ‘joy or runner that knew what was up. They couldn’t save the English in time, however, which had been covered in purple and green and _‘ha Ha HA_ **_HA_** _s’_

 

Patrick wondered what they meant.

 

If they were laughing at BLi, or just laughing because.

 

The kanji was rusted over, but still readable.

 

住宅や道路は砂や岩の下に埋もれてしまい、目立たなくなることがあります。パトロール時には安全を保ち、常に不自然なシンクホールを監視してください！沈没と早すぎる残酷な死を防ぐため、半径4マイルを推奨します。ご協力ありがとうございます！より良い生活、より良いあなた。

 

Crash pulled them over to translate as best he could.

 

“So…” He chewed the stubby pencil, “Houses… and streets, and then it says sinkholes again…”

 

“What’s the ‘4’?” Hayley asked, pointing up at the cracking metal.

 

“Uh…” Crash examined the words after it, “a four-mile… so we should go around… but there’s no way of telling how  _far_ we have to go to go around… and then that symbol just means death.”

 

死

 

Patrick knew that his mother had referred to Better Living as ‘Shi.’

 

“It’s easy,” Dahvie said from the bed of the truck, “Just drive through.”

 

Crash frowned from his notebook, “But it says-”

 

“You can’t afford to waste time trying to… _math_ your way around this sandtrap, Crash,” Dahvie interrupted, “You guys are already wasting time, I’ve done this before.”

 

“You said people sank,” Lightning furrowed his brow, “And you want us to drive over?”

 

“I said they did it wrong!” Dahvie almost laughed, “They rushed through and made mistakes, but you won’t! You can’t afford to go four miles around when we’re already so close.”

 

“Dahvie-” Patrick began, indecision buzzing in his head.

 

“Doctor,” Dahvie interrupted with a pressing tone of voice, “I wouldn’t lead you to death, that’s not my thing, I can help you across this stretch and take you to Celluloid Hero, just like I said, as long as you got carbons, you’re safe-”

 

“We’re not going.” Hayley had clambered through the small window, squeezing her tiny frame easily onto the bed of the truck to confront Dahvie by pushing him back by the shoulders, “You’re going to take us to Celluloid Hero, and then you’re _leaving_.”

 

Dahvie only stared at her, just like he had been for the past few days, then sneered, “Doesn’t matter to me, _Secret Lover_ ,” He moved back,”Do what you want.”

 

Crash looked between them, then at Patrick, who nodded, “Take us around, as far as you can, but not away from Zone 3, I want to make this quick.” Crash nodded fast.

 

“I’ll try my best.”

 

Patrick pulled Lightning aside, “Watch Dahvie, okay?” Lightning frowned.

 

“He’s just trying to help, I don’t get-”

 

“Just watch him!” Patrick whispered furiously, “Okay?”

 

Lightning finally shrugged in acceptance.

 

Hayley stayed in the bed, facing away from the cab by sitting against it. Patrick joined her and Josh joined Tyler in the cab where they joined in a whispered conversation.

 

“Okay!” Crash hid his stress behind false assurance, “I don’t know exactly how far around we should go, or how long the overlay actually is so…” He looked at Lightning for encouragement, “I’ll just go left and maybe curve after a while? Or… at least until Dahvie can point us in the right direction again.”

 

Dahvie didn’t respond.

 

“Sounds good,” Patrick nodded and Crash smiled, jumping into the driver’s seat and starting up the truck. Hayley remained silent, setting her jaw and staring at the horizon, all attempts Patrick made for conversation were turned down before they even left his mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

Crash drove into the night, his white knuckles making it clear he had no intention of stopping until they could return to their original course. Patrick fell asleep to the sound of the engine and the light of the stars above him.

 

His mind was dark, empty of dreams until the truck went over a bump in the road and instead of waking, he fell.

 

Far.

 

Down a hole darker than black, his organs seemed to melt through his skin and his eyes burned like they had that first night, the night Daylight Drug had died.

 

A pinprick of light appeared in the distance and steadily grew larger and larger by the second until Patrick could see the sandy, bloodstained ground of Zone 5.

 

Home.

 

He would hit the ground at the speed of light and his throat compressed when he realized his fate, squeezing his eyes shut as the ground came closer and closer and  _closer._

 

He gasped when the impact never came.

 

Instead, he felt a pressure on his back and he was awake, on the ground.

 

Just like that first night.

 

He sat up, his heart pounding against his rib cage as the sun beat against his skin.

 

A _squawk!_ In his ear sent him scrambling and the raven perched on his shoulder screamed again in fear, flying away into the deep blue sky.

 

Is he reliving it?

 

He looked down at his hands, expecting them to be transparent.

 

Instead, they were gray, like they had been when he had woken up, the blood still trying to flow into his recently deceased limbs.

 

That would mean-

 

The hole in his forehead.

 

He touched it with shaking fingers and they came back sticky with blood.

 

“Careful.”

 

Death, The Phoenix Witch, said through her mask.

 

Patrick stood, shaky, “Careful…?” His voice rasped, “About what?”

 

She turned to face him, her mask of bone burning its image into his eyes. The feathers that covered her body shined black and blue and purple, and her jewelry glinted in the sun.

 

“It’s still healing, even now, you don’t want to infect it do you?”

 

Patrick frowned, thinking of his body outside the dream, “But-?”

 

“Yes I know,” The Witch shushed him with a wave of her hand, “But it’s still there, things like that-” She pointed at the hole, “Don’t just go away.”

 

The ravens around them erupted into a flurry of squawking and hurried flight and The Witch waved them away almost angrily. “Shoo! Shoo! Honestly!”

 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Patrick furrowed his brow, “But what am I doing here?”

 

The Witch paused, and turned to look at him.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

She phrased it as a question, but something told Patrick she wasn’t expecting an answer.

 

“You know,” She bent down to dig through the rubble of a home Patrick didn’t recognize anymore, “You’re close.”

 

“Close to what?”

 

She glanced up at him and chuckled before continuing in her digging, “To everything.” She finally found what she was looking for, and held it up for him to see.

 

A broken mask.

 

His father’s, Daylight Drug’s.

 

He looked away, “How am I close to everything?”

 

“I’m not talking about answers,” She waved her hand to dismiss the words, “I’m talking about _everything_.”

 

“What is _everything_?” He put the same stress on the word that she had.

 

“Nothing.” She answered, “But at the same time, so are you.” She jabbed a bony finger into his chest. “You’re at the center or at least closer than you have been, you were close since your second year alive, but since your… I want to say, _reawakening_ in Zone 5, you now touch everything that could be deemed _something_.”

 

“What?” Patrick felt dizzy.

 

“I know,” The Witch nodded sympathetically, “Gives me a stomachache, but don’t worry Patrick, you’re not alone in this!” She seemed to be trying to encourage him, “Take everyone you’ve met so far, everyone you’ve met before…” She spread her arms wide. “They are close too!”

 

“I…” Patrick searched his mind for something just as profound, “I barely know any of them, except Hayley and Crash and Lightning.”

 

“Doesn’t matter!” She seemed to be rolling her eyes inside her mask, “I’ve never even seen them in person! But I can tell you, you’re on the right track, even as you’ve split up across these Zones, all on your own quests and journeys… Some of them with more peril than others…” She trailed off in disgust.

 

“Oh!” Patrick suddenly remembered, “You have to tell me-”

 

 _“What?”_ She snapped, and he had to take a step back, startled, a drop of blood dripped down his forehead and onto his nose. There was a light behind her mask, one that faded as quickly as it appeared.

 

Taking a deep breath, he started again, “It’s about...What happened after.”

 

“After.” She repeated.

 

“The lightning…” He hesitated, “It… burned, I thought it would go away, but… It’s still _there_ , in my chest and… It-”

 

“Changes you?” The Witch guessed, “Are you afraid of it?”

 

“I-” He wanted to say _yes,_ but it wasn’t true, “I don’t know.”

 

“Good,” She nodded, turning away to collect her things, “I wouldn’t be… It’s important you let Her work… albeit in some ethics questioning ways…” She tilted her head to think and Patrick stepped forward.

 

“Her?” He asked, “Are you talking about Destroya?”

 

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?”

 

“You talked about her before!” Patrick dodged the question, “You mentioned she wanted me alive!”

 

“I would check on them if I were you.” The Witch swung around again, “And the ones sneaking around the sides…”

 

“What?” Patrick frowned, “No! What were saying about _Her_ , about Destroya?”

 

She stared at him, “Patrick?”

 

“What?!” He was desperate, suddenly breathing heavy.

 

“Patrick?” She asked again, except, it came from all around him, ringing in his ears and making him dizzy.

 

“Shut up!” He yelled at the Witch, a pain in his side making him stumble, there was a ringing in his head that seemed to vibrate his organs as he clutched his ears, _“Tell me!”_

 

The voice wasn’t his own, and when the feeling of being sucked through a straw overcame everything, it was Dr. Benzedrine that woke up first, angry and almost lashing out before Hayley’s voice rang over the fog:

 

“Patrick!”

 

She whisper-yelled in his ear, and Patrick gasped awake, trying to find her in the dark.

 

“What?!” He finally found her eyes reflecting the moon and his eyes adjusted, “What’s going on?!” He whispered back furiously.

 

The truck had stopped moving, and it almost seemed as if they were the only ones even around until he spotted Lightning and Josh squeezing themselves against the side of the cab, staring wide-eyed at Patrick and Hayley.

 

In the distance, a flame glowed brightly against the pitch sky, and the white smoke trailed up to the stars. If he strained his ears, he could hear a distant hollering, and a few slim figures jumped around the fire.

  


Patrick looked around, then whispered, “Where’s Dahvie?”

 

Hayley pointed to the cab, “He squeezed in with the Bat Rat and Crash when we saw the fire,” Patrick could only see blurry shadows through the window, “He told us to stop.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He said they were followers of the Sandman,” Hayley responded, “If they saw us, he said they might think we’re BLi, they usually sacrifice those people!” Patrick stared at her for a moment, then looked back at the flame.

 

“The same people he told us that put people in the overlay?”

 

Hayley nodded.

 

There was silence for a few more minutes, then the shouting stopped, Lightning let out a huge sigh as the figures ceased their jumping and began putting out the fire. The small window slid open and Dahvie whispered: “Okay… So we just wait, they could be going to sleep about now.”

 

A few more minutes of silence, ones that almost felt agonizing for Patrick, who was still confused about the reason they had stopped, then Crash started the engine.

 

The headlights turned on and were quickly shut off with a quick, whispered argument, and they started crawling forward, giving the fire a wide berth as they passed. No one moved.

 

Then, _BANG!_ A firecracker, Patrick guessed, went off in the fire, causing Crash to swerve hard to the left before righting himself Lightning yelled in surprise, lurching forward into Hayley who stood to avoid him. Patrick pushed himself away to avoid them just as a shadow leaped into the bed of the truck, pushing both of them down with a sharp laugh that sent his companions into hysterics, leaping onto the truck after him.

 

One climbed onto the roof and began to bash the windows in with a bat, another put dents into the hood by jumping up and down, and a third joined the fourth in the bed. Patrick didn’t have time to grab his gun and tackled one instead, Lightning pulled the one off the roof and Hayley joined him in the fight. Josh had been dragged from the bed by the first and tried to defend himself from blunt kicks and punches.

 

The one Patrick fought landed a good punch to his head that sent him spinning until finally the chaos was interrupted by a shout from the one on the hood, who had moved to the ground to pull Tyler from the truck.

 

“Alright!” The boy had a gruesome smile painted on his face, and he held a dull switchblade to Tyler’s throat.

 

Josh had stood, and attempted to run forward, but was grabbed around the stomach by the one he had been fighting, who pushed him to the ground once again, “Tyler!”

 

Tyler was silent, as usual, but his eyes were wide with fear, and his breathing was heavy.

 

“I am The Sandman!” His captor yelled, and his group cheered, “And you _drones_ , are gonna get what you deserve in my name!” More cheering, this time joined by howling.

 

Hayley spat out blood onto the sand, “We’re not drones you fucks!”

 

The one fighting Lightning laughed, “Sounds like something a drone would say!” He had dark, curly hair and bandages on his face, which Patrick could see were hastily applied, the rest of his companions laughed with him.

 

“She’s telling the truth!” Patrick finally spoke up, “You really think a bunch of drones would just drive through the desert for no reason?”

 

The one calling himself ‘Sandman’ mocked him, then asked: “You got proof?”

 

Hayley straightened, “You listen to the radio, fuckface?” He nodded, “I’m Secret Lover, you know the one at Hyper Thrust?” He frowned.

 

“Are you being Organic right now?”

 

Patrick tilted his head, Organic was Zone 1 slang.

 

“I’m as fresh as a fucking daisy!” Hayley crossed her arms.

 

“Then…” The one holding Josh down chimed in, “Then these guys are Crash and Lightning?” He pointed wildly, trying to guess.

 

“Obviously,” Lightning said, his face blank with annoyance.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m Michael, by the way,” The one with the gruesome smile had apologized profusely to Tyler, patting down his clothes as Tyler stared wide-eyed into the distance. The rest of the group had done the same, wiping the paint off their faces in what Patrick thought might have been shame.

 

The two who had climbed on the truck were Luke and Calum, and the one who had held Josh was Ashton, who had gushed over Hayley and her skills at Hyper Thrust. DJ Hot Chimp had apparently played her up, proud of another Crash Queen that took no shit from the boys in what she referred to as a ‘Male Dominated line of work’.

 

It was probably true, Patrick reasoned.

 

She had also taken eyewitness accounts of the scene, fellow killjoys and partiers who had raved about her fighting, her clothes, her orange hair, they even asked for references of the design on her gun to apply to their own designs. Patrick was suddenly filled with a rush of pride.

 

The group of boys called themselves The Rejects and had invited them to sit around the fire for a few cans of Pup to apologize. Dahvie trailed behind, sitting away from the group with an almost miffed expression on his face. Patrick cast him a few suspicious glances before taking a seat next to Ashton, who wore a bandana around his forehead and had painted his face like a zombie’s.

 

“We’re really sorry,” Calum said again, moping, “We’re so bad at this.” Patrick nodded.

 

“It’s okay,” He told them, “You were just caught up in the moment.” He recognized the way their group worked, through sheer mob mentality and codependency, which he remembers his father talking about whenever he mentioned an old group he worked with during the Wars. He couldn’t recall the name.

 

Something about Peace.

 

“We usually have a guy that gets us before we go too far,” Ashton looked down at his hands and picked at his fingernails, Michael and Luke hummed in agreement and pushed the cans of Pup closer to the fire, trying to cook the meat inside slightly.

 

“What happened to him?” Hayley placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder in encouragement and he blushed. Calum answered for him:

 

“He got caught, with a few of his own friends, they were put in a BLi truck, we tried following on our bikes but they went to a base in Zone 1, where a bunch of Exterminators were camped, we couldn’t beat them.”

 

“There were too many.” Michael chimed in, “We couldn’t even get past their border.”

 

“What was his name?” Lightning asked, “We’ll keep an eye out for him.”

 

Patrick knew full well that would be impossible, people that were taken by BLi hardly ever came back, but it was better to let them stay hopeful.

 

“The Cobra,” Ashton answered, “He’s tall, and speaks Spanish all the time!”

 

“Only to yell at us, though!” Michael laughed, lightening the somber mood. The Pup was finally passed around to the group, and Tyler and Josh avoided like it was a Drac, receiving teasing from The Rejects, who mimed throwing up whenever they took a bite. Patrick thought he saw Tyler smiling at one of them.

 

“So where are you guys heading?”Calum asked through a mouthful of Pup.

 

“Well, we kinda lost our way but-” Crash was interrupted by Michael, who said:

 

“We can help!” He smiled, “To make up for it!” Ashton nodded furiously.

 

“Luke knows everyone in the desert! Just ask him!”

 

“Yeah, I know everyone!” Luke was wide-eyed and Hayley snorts, Dahvie frowns.

 

“How would you know everyone?”

 

Luke shrugged, “It just kinda happens… I mean, there are definitely people I _don’t_ know,” He smiles, “I just haven’t met them yet.” His words made Patrick smile, and he leaned toward Luke to ask:

 

“Would you know anyone named Celluloid Hero?”

 

Lightning and Crash paused in their conversation to listen, Josh and Tyler shared looks that Patrick almost desperately wanted to understand. Luke straightened, “I do!” He hesitated, “Sort of… I haven’t seen her in a while…” He thought for a moment and Dahvie scowled, standing to make his way back to the truck. Patrick watched him as he went.

 

“Okay!” Luke smiled again, “I met her when I crashed into her house! I was on my bike and couldn’t brake very well, I helped her repair the wall I dented!”

 

“Do you know where she is?” Lightning asked and Luke nodded happily.

 

“She’s just…” He paused, then pointed in a direction past their truck, “That way! There’s a lot of cacti that way, away from the Sandman’s Church.” Patrick frowned, but Josh was the one to ask.

 

“What do you mean…” He cast a quick glance at Tyler, “What’s the Church?”

 

Calum leaned in closer to the fire, “It’s where we go when we’re younger, our parents take us to meet the Sandman.”

 

“You mean you go on the overlay?” Crash asked incredulously, “People _sink_ on that thing!”

 

“Michael nodded, “We were buried in it mate,” He was wide-eyed in amazement, “It was the shiniest thing I’ve ever seen…”

 

Patrick suddenly felt sick to his stomach and tried reminding himself that The Sandman wasn’t unusual in asking for a ritual. Destroya asked for blood to be shed in Her name, and he guessed that if he told The Rejects, they would be just as astonished.

 

Hayley coughs, “That sounds so weird… But Luke, you said Celluloid was in that direction?” She pointed in the direction he had.

 

“Yep!” Luke smiled, “Surrounded by a bunch of cacti, but no guarantee she’s still there, though, I haven’t seen her in _ages_.”

 

Patrick nodded, “It’s okay, thank you guys,” He looked around at The Rejects, covered in body paint and torn clothes, they somehow looked different than the boys who had screamed and laughed in his face an hour before.

 

“Sun’s coming up,”Crash observed, standing, “We should get going.”

 

“I’ll drive this time,” Lightning stood with him and they pounded fists.

 

“Keep an eye out for Cobra okay?” Ashton looked up at Hayley as she stood, and she tilted her head smiling.

 

“Of course! I’m sure you’ll see him soon.”

 

Ashton blushed though his blue face paint.

 

Luke and Calum shook hands with Tyler and Josh, still teasing as they said, “It was really glittery to meet you guys.” Patrick shook Michael's hand as he stood.

 

“You guys are sparkling,” Michael said, looking up at Patrick, “Like, super Organic, I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Patrick smiled.

 

“Thanks, Michael,” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, “I hope you get your friend back.”

 

Michael stood, “Can I ask you a question?” Patrick nodded.

 

“Were you the other guy? At Hyper Thrust?”

 

Patrick frowned, “What do you mean?” The rest of the group had gotten to the truck, looking over the engine and the tires.

 

“I know that the Danger Blues were there, like what Dr. D and Hot Chimp were saying, and Crash and Lightning, but Newsagogo was talking about another guy, with yellow eyes?”

 

Patrick sucked in a breath, then said: “Uh no, that wasn’t me,” He gave a breathy laugh, “I was there but no, I guess I’m just not famous enough.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Michael seemed disappointed, “Well… You should get going I guess.” Patrick paused, then started towards the truck, waving goodbye.

 

The Rejects started to pack up as well, digging dirt bikes out from under the sand and patting out the fire, laughing about something as Patrick caught Crash checking a tire on the truck.

 

“You want me to watch him don’t you?” Crash stopped him before he could speak and briefly pointed at Dahvie in the back of the truck, almost moping against the side.

 

“How did you know?” Patrick asked.

 

“I guess I kinda agree with you,” Crash scratched the back of his head, “And I sorta know you too, I guess.”

 

Patrick gave him a soft smile, “Thanks, Crash.”

 

“Yeah, well.” Crash slid past him and climbed into the bed, “I still have a lot to make up for.”

 

Patrick watched him for a moment, then followed Hayley into the passenger side door. Lightning climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, taking a moment to watch The Rejects start their engines and speed off in the opposite direction, yelling and howling at each other over the roar of the dirt bikes engine.

 

“Those guys are…” Lightning breathed in, “ _Dumb._ ”

 

Hayley smacked him on the shoulder, “They’re sweet!” She smiled, “After you get past the creepy, anyway.” Patrick hummed in agreement.

 

Crash tapped the top of the cab, signaling they were ready to go, and Lightning pressed down on the gas.

 

* * *

 

 

When cacti had begun to grow around them, Patrick sat up in his seat, trying not to doze off as he counted them. Once in awhile, Lightning would swerve to avoid them and Crash and Josh would make over exaggerated yells of surprise from the bed. Patrick was glad they had started to make friends, even as Dahvie passed sour looks at the rest of them. Tyler had even joined in a brief conversation with Hayley and Patrick by opening the small window and leaning in to listen.

 

Soon the cacti became too dense, however, and before Patrick could make an informed decision to turn back and go around, Lightning was forced to stop the truck. “We better get out.” He said, carefully opening the door to leave.

 

“Alright!” Crash hopped out, almost hitting his arm on a nearby cactus, “Let’s do this? For real this time.” Hayley hesitated to follow Patrick out of the truck.

 

“What if…” She pouted, “What if it’s not what we’re looking for?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Patrick asked.

 

“Like… I don’t know, it still doesn't feel real.” She finally clambered out after him, readjusting her shirt and checking her gun, “I mean, is this really it? A bunch of cacti and an old defected BLi scientist?”

 

“No,” Patrick answered immediately and Hayley’s head snapped up.

 

“No?”

 

“There’s an after,” Patrick looked her straight in the eye, “After the defected scientist, there’s still the Scarecrow, it doesn’t matter how much information we have on him, he’s still out there even after that, and what he did won’t go away.” Hayley stared at him in amazement then looked down at her feet.

 

“I have nightmares still,” She scraped the ground with her boot, “It’s dumb but sometimes I’ll wake up and it’s like… Like I’m still there in the rubble and… It’s raining and you’re dead and-”

 

“Me too.” He stops her before she could panic, “My mom had it too, from before… I don’t know what happened to her but she couldn’t stand the sound of anything BLi, she would hear it on the radio and....” He remembers her panicked fury at the radio in silence, and they stand alone for a few seconds. Patrick wanted to ask what she was thinking about.

 

Then Crash burst back through the cacti, trying to avoid the spines, “You guys! C’mon!” He looked flustered, scared, and they quickly followed him through the cacti to a small shed of a building covered in sigils and graffiti. The door was a rotting rust colored thing that might have been used in an apartment building ages ago and was scratched up with strange symbols and more Japanese kanji.

 

There was yelling from inside, incoherent even after the door was opened, a violent back and forth between Lightning, who had his gun drawn ready to fire, spit was flying from his mouth and Tyler and Josh were wide-eyed, staring.

 

Dahvie had tucked himself in the corner, smiling to himself.

 

The other person, Patrick could finally see, was kneeling on the ground, shouting in fear, his hands, face, and neck, covered in blood.

 

_“We are going to hell together. But we're coming back alive. Don't forget that.”_

_―_ _Atsuko Asano_ _,_ _No.6, Volume 4_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm definitely started to take my time on chapters, and I'm really started to get back into a groove! This is my favorite chapter yet, and who could that boy be??


	11. Next

 

_“Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”_

_―_ _Benjamin Franklin_ _,_ _Poor Richard's Almanack_

 

It was nerve-wracking, being this close to the water.

 

Dallon had once heard horror stories about radiation and fish with sharp teeth that would swallow you whole, or how the water would burn the flesh off your skin.

 

He readjusted the backpack on his shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut before turning back to Stardust and the person they were talking to. Even now, as they were giving the water a wide berth, he could still hear the waves pound his ears.

 

“I haven’t thought about this in a long time,” They said, pausing to take a long drag from their cigarette, “It happened when I was like… Ten maybe?” Smoke left their nose and clung to the air, sticking to Dallon’s clothes and making it hard to breath. He squeezed Fred around the middle and tried not to cough.

 

“It’s okay Sandy,” Stardust clasped his hands in his lap, unbothered by the heavy smoke, “I’m just asking you what you remember, specifically, I don’t need any details except your own.” Sandy finally put out the cigarette in the ashtray next to their stained green armchair. The stuffing was coming out, and Dallon wondered offhand if they ever hid things in the rips and tears in the seam.

 

The place they were in was a worn down wooden building with curtained off windows and sealed cracks. Usually, the door was closed to the ocean and sealed to the rest of the world while people hotboxed, but their entrance had driven people out, smoke trailing after and out the door, clinging to their skin and clothes.

 

It was usually dark, and Sandy, who Stardust had bribed with a pack of cigarettes, was squinting from the bright light.

 

Sandy took another drag, staring at both Dallon and Stardust before asking: “Why do you even care?”

 

“We want justice,” Stardust answered immediately, “Or at least give the victims peace in knowing what really happened.”

 

“Peace? Justice?” Sandy dismissed him with a wave of the cigarette squeezed between their fingers, “Justice doesn’t exist anymore, you can’t sue anyone in court, you know what they did to courts? They tore ‘em down, and peace?” They sighed heavily, “Maybe… I don’t know, there are some people out there that just found peace in what they were told, Better Living’s word was enough compared to the shitstorm that would come with knowing…” They trailed off.

 

Stardust leaned forward, “Knowing what?”

 

Sandy made an irritated noise with their tongue, looking past Dallon to the water before continuing, “I was ten, I don’t know _what_ I know.”

 

Dallon scrunched his face again before asking: “What did you…” He glanced at Stardust before continuing, “What did you see?”

 

It was his first time speaking since they had arrived, and Sandy looked surprised before lowering the cigarette, “I saw… Fuck, I saw fire, apartments, and people… burning.” They trailed off.

 

“Start from the beginning, a little before the fire.” Stardust pushed.

 

Sandy finally sat up, looking between them and snuffing out the cigarette. “It was lunchtime I guess, people always told me it was dinner but that’s bullshit, they just always think bad things happen at night. But it was lunch, I remember because my uncle and I always ate together, PB and J and Mousekat was on TV…” They bounced their knee, “Fuck, holy shit what even… There was a knock on the door, and my uncle got up to answer… I just stayed to watch Mousekat, but I remember hearing them talk at the door, she was frantic and-”

 

“She who?” Stardust interrupted.

 

“I don’t-” They thought for a moment, “A neighbor I guess, I don’t remember, but she was yelling about something and my uncle came back and just grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder, I was still eating, I remember ‘cause I had to choke it out onto the floor, and I think I was crying? I wanted to stay and watch Mousekat but he just pulled me outta the apartment.” They picked at their fingernails, “We got out and went down the stairs… we were following our neighbor. When we got down… I think to the second floor? Yeah, the second, we lived on the third, but when we got down to the second I started smelling smoke, and… I don’t know, it seemed like a million people were running around to get downstairs, pushing and shoving… that was when my uncle set me down and pulled me by the hand through all these people.”

 

They sat back and sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

 

“I smelled smoke… It was terrifying, but… I didn’t understand, I don’t remember being scared.” They looked back at Dallon for a moment, “But when we left the building, it started getting hot, and… I think I looked back, and I could see the fire… It had wrapped around the two buildings before ours, I remember… I looked back and my uncle put me on his shoulder again.”

 

“And what happened next?” Stardust weaved his fingers.

 

“I saw Exterminators, back when they wore black instead of white,” Sandy had begun wringing their hands, “I felt like… like I was the only one… and I thought they were trying to put it out!” They shrugged, wide-eyed, “I don’t know, I… That’s… That’s honestly all I can tell you.”

 

Stardust sucked in a breath, “Are you sure? You didn’t see anything that might-”

 

“No!” Sandy gestured wildly, “I saw a lot of people! Burning! I know that it wasn’t us that caused it but… I don’t want to… People I know are disappearing… I can’t tell you any more than that, even if that’s the _only_ stuff that I know.”

 

* * *

**_  
  
_**

“I have to meet a friend,” Stardust had given up on pressing Sandy, who had lit another joint before he could ask for anything else.

 

“Do they have anything to do with the fire?” Dallon asked, squeezing Fred and tucking the cat back into his bag before following Stardust down the somewhat crowded road, away from the water.

 

“Nah…” Stardust paused, “I’ve never asked, but she and I go quite a ways back,” He put on an expression that Dallon had only ever seen on Glass, one that was tense and suspicious but hiding something at the same time. “She’s a friend.” He put stress on the statement.

 

When the water was out of sight, replaced by a view of shacks and tents and stalls, Stardust stopped in front of a tiny house.

 

Put together like everything else in the town, it was held together with mud, rope, wood, and hastily placed tape. But it was well looked after, and line of laundry was strung out of a narrow window, connected to a long stick that was stuck in the ground. At the base of a stick was a toolbox, rusted and filled with equally rusting tools, and a few pulleys that were strung through with a thick wire.

 

Stardust let out a huff of laughter,”Looks like she’s still on that,” He gestured to the pulleys and looked up at Dallon, “She’s the laziest person I’ve ever met.”

 

“What’s she trying to do?” He tilted his head.

 

“Come in and ask me!” A rough voice drifted through the door, which was covered by a crisp, pink blanket, “Instead of just gossiping…” She trailed off, muttering to herself.

 

Stardust complied, leading Dallon under the blanket, which turned out to be thick and scratchy, irritating Dallon’s skin in the few seconds he touched it.

 

The roof of the place, which had appeared tightly bound together outside, was actually slanted upward, providing light and a place for rain to enter and collect if it ever decided to pour. Most of the containers (various jars, bottles, and buckets) were almost full from the past few weeks of rain.

 

There was no table, or chairs of any kind, most of the eating, Dallon reasoned, was done on the floor on a large green rug that was most likely just as scratchy as the one used for the door.

 

A few pots and pans hung from the walls, along with a few forks and knives stacked on a box tucked into one corner. But what was overpowering, was the paper.

 

Stacks upon stacks of paper.

 

In folders, files clipped together by paperclips and rubber bands, and others that simply sat freely, piled against the wall and on the various filing cabinets that sat against the walls. In fact, the only bit of real furniture was a musty, sagging couch tucked against the back wall, faded from maroon and sagging in the middle.

 

“David!” A woman was sprawled on said couch, her black hair wild and messy as she sat up, not bothering to stand and greet them, her smile faded momentarily, “I was napping.” She was being obviously sarcastic, tilting her head in disgust before her cheeky smile returned.

 

“You’re always napping Jett,” Stardust, whose name Dallon had just learned was David, took a few steps towards the woman. She smiled and stood, straightening her moth-eaten tank top and hugging him around his shoulders. “It’s kind of impossible to not catch you in the middle of one.”

 

“Whatever,” Jett waved the accusatory statement away with one hand and turned to face Dallon, placing her hands on her hips, “Who's the string bean?” She looked him up and down.

 

Dallon felt hot, he towered over both of them, and Jett, while older than him by more several years, stared at him with more seriousness than her slouching frame seemed to hold. He felt small, at least until Stardust introduced him nonchalantly.

 

“The Socialite,” He said, “Or at least that’s what he calls himself, he’s a friend.” Stardust turned to him, Socialite, this is Jett, an old friend.”

 

Jett finally smiled at Dallon, “Old as all hell it feels like… You guys want some snacks?” She turned back to her couch and flipped one of the cushions, unzipping the case and making Dallon slightly excited, remembering his thoughts back with Sandy and their ugly chair.

 

Jett took out a bag of BLi brand chips and tore it open just as Stardust declined her offer. Dallon straightened, “Do you really hide stuff in your cushions?” His eyes were wide. Jett gave him a tiny smile as she sat back down.

 

“All kinds of stuff string bean!” She invited him over, softly patting the cushion, “Just this one, though, if I tried these other ones I’d have a hard time sleeping.” Dallon, suddenly enamored with more _things_ to look at, hurried over.

 

“Go crazy string bean, I don’t have anything to hide.” Jett leaned her head against her palm, twisting her torso to look at him as he sat down on the ground to look through the cushion.

 

Stardust set his pack down, “Can I grab some water, Jett?” Jett shrugged.

 

“I’ve got enough from the past week or two, go ahead.”

 

Dallon dug his hand through the cushion, pulling things out with a closed fist as if he could guess what things were just by touch.

 

_Old toy, plastic… A dog! With wheels for feet._

 

_More chips._

 

_A warm can of pop._

 

_Beans._

 

_Seeds!_

 

“So David,” Jett was still watching Dallon, had crossed his legs and folded into something smaller as he looked over Jett’s treasure, “You still going by Aladdin? Carrying around that big knife?”

 

_A potato, nice._

 

“No,” Stardust answered blankly, “Just Stardust right now.”

 

“Does that mean-?”

 

“No,” Stardust faced her, and the way he said it made Dallon pause, “I’m still-”

 

“I know, I know,” Jett tore her eyes away from Dallon, “You’re still a believer, _I know_ , Is that really what you thought I would ask?”

 

“You always do,” Stardust finally sat and leaned back against a filing cabinet.

 

“It’s a bad habit,” She tilted her head, “You know I have about eighty-eight of those.” She directed the last part at Dallon, who snorted, and they smiled at each other for a moment before she turned back to Stardust, “I was going to ask… If that meant you were moving on.”

 

“From what?” Stardust sighed.

 

“I heard about Zone 5, hell, everyone did,” Jett slid to the ground, sitting against the couch, “I just want to make sure, sometimes it can be healthy to change your name, other times, not so much.”

 

_More food._

 

_Some carbons…_

 

“I don’t want to be recognized,” Stardust tossed a glance at Dallon, “Even if no one actually knows me.”

 

“It’s the fire isn’t it.” Jett wasn’t asking a question.

 

“I didn’t want to ask-”

 

“Everybody wants shit David, even between old friends,” She said, “I know that you know that _I know_ about it.”

 

Stardust was silent, his usual image of belief and strength replaced by a cloud of doubt that Dallon could feel in his spine. He was silent against the filing cabinet.

 

Jett turned back to Dallon.

 

“You’re a hoarder aren’t you?”

 

Dallon flinched and looked up at her, frowning, “No!”

 

“Relax string bean!” She smiled, “It’s just something that happens out here sometimes, in the zones, some people start keeping _things_ to themselves, t happens when you’re surrounded by a whole lotta nothin on every side.”

 

“Yeah, but I don’t _hoard_ things,” Dallon insisted, “I keep them.”

 

Jett nodded, “You remind me of someone, but he’s a lot younger… Well, he might be your age now…”

 

“Who?”

 

“He was a friend of mines kid, really tiny, he would always keep things in his room…away from everyone, whether it was broken or not, he would keep it.” Dallon listened intently, his hands still in the cushion.

 

“Where is he now?”

 

“Fuck if I know,” Jett put her head back against the couch, “He was real sweet, though, his mom must have raised him right, he was the only kid I knew that could actually smile without the pills… and goddamnit he had a lot of shit in his room.”

 

The pink blanket over the door was suddenly thrust aside, startling Stardust enough that he stood as fast as he could. The man in the door appeared just as startled before letting out a quick sigh, his scared expression replaced by an almost perpetual soft scowl, one that Dallon had seen on Kenny since they were kids.

 

The man’s hair was greased back, and he slouched, shadowing his face even further as he looks for Jett, who stood to greet him.

 

“Gerald,” She smiled, “You always look so sad.”

 

“Yeah,” Gerald tilted his head sarcastically, “I know, I’m acting like a bitch, I just came from the hot box, but there was nobody there.” He breezed through Jett’s joke.

 

Jett pulled a face, “You worry more than anyone else I know G, it was just these guys disturbing the peace, the hot box will be back up in two minutes if I know these people.” She had gestured to Stardust and Dallon as she talked, diverting Gerald’s attention. He gave them both hard looks through dark brown eyes, his brow furrowing and creating shadows on his face.

 

Stardust offered him a hand, “Stardust, and this is my friend, The Socialite.” Gerald took the hand without hesitation, clasping it in a firm grip that Stardust returned.

 

“Call me G,” Gerald looked over at Dallon and nodded quickly, Dallon gave him a quick, closed-mouth smile and wondered where he had gotten his jacket, a black denim number, sewn to leather and spray-painted with white, straps hung off of it and chains jangled when he moved. It was rare to see something like that in the Zones, the way it seemed to suck the color out of the room reminded Dallon of The Southern Man…

 

He turned back to the cushion, but could only stare.

 

“What were you doing at the hot box?” Gerald, called G, asked.

 

“G is like an Exterminator here,” Jett leaned against a cabinet, “But without all the corruption and Better Living influence.”

 

“Police?” Stardust asked, interested.

 

“More like I make sure the assholes in this place don’t run themselves into the ground, what were you doing at the hot box?” He wasted no time.

 

“Make it sound official Star,” Jett goaded, “Then he might let you off with a warning,” She made it clear she knew Gerald well enough that she could make fun of him. Dallon could barely imagine arguing with Gerald, even after knowing him for only a minute. Jett used her age well, using it to take charge and stay on the outside at the same time, Gerald respected her.

 

Stardust didn’t see age, Dallon had learned that quick enough.

 

Stardust licked his lips, “I was asking questions.” His answer wasn’t simple, Dallon winced, he hated lying, and he squeezed his nose and curled his fists before turning to stand. Gerald was rolling his eyes when he faced Dallon.

 

“Why were you at the hot box?”

 

Dallon shrugged, feeling like he was being interrogated, “Asking about the fire.” He wasn’t sure if Stardust was trying to keep it a secret, and tossed a glance at him to make sure. He didn’t seem angry but simply nodded.

 

“I’m trying to find forgiveness,” Stardust told him, “So is the Socialite, we’re sorry if we broke a routine you were used to.” Gerald didn’t look too bothered, but he had obviously decided Dallon was the one to ask for a straight answer.

 

“Which fire?”

 

Dallon squeezed his nose, “The one in the city?” He looked down at his feet, “The Outer City I think?” Stardust nodded, confirming.

 

“If we can find answers, maybe we can ask for forgiveness.”

 

Gerald sighed, rolling his shoulders in their sockets for a moment, then turned to Jett, “Do you mind if I-?”

 

“Go ahead,” Jett waved her hand non-committedly, “Take ‘em away, put ‘em in the slammer.”

 

Gerald stomped out of the house, flinging the pink blanket behind him, it was a few seconds before he came back, gesturing harshly for Stardust and Dallon to follow, “You said you wanted to know about that fire?” He left again with Stardust hot on his heels. Dallon hesitated, grabbing his bag and slowly lifting it around his shoulder.

 

“Just go string bean it’s fine,” Jett looked up at him, “I’ll clean this up,” She looked back down at the cushion, it’s contents spread out on the floor, “Someday…”

 

“How does Gerald… um, G, know about the fire?”

 

“It’s Settlement 4 string bean,” Jett shrugged, “You never know who you’re gonna meet.”

 

* * *

 

 

He was led to an open tent with only a roof, it’s metal legs buried in the sand, and rotting wood tables that sat old and young men and women in dark clothes and, what Dallon thought was some pretty shiny haircuts.

 

“Heeeey man,” Gerald was greeted by a short man with dark skin, he had the same style of jacket, and they pounded fists happily, “We were waiting for you man.” The rest of the people under the tent gave brief hellos and waves before turning back to their conversations. They each had the same style of clothes as Gerald.

 

In their midst, Stardust stood out like a sore thumb in his orange jacket, while Dallon seemed to almost be one of them, his blue and gray colors blending with the black and dark flannel.

 

“This is the Secret Police,” Gerald gestured to the group, “A gang I run with once in awhile, and this is Sean.” Dallon squeezed his fists and waved at the short man, who smiled back.

 

“Only once in awhile, though!” A woman with a scratching voice joked from her table, “If I had to see these screw heads every day I think I would just turn myself in!” Her table laughed loudly.

 

Gerald smiled quickly and turned back to Sean, “Listen, man, they’re asking about the fire.”

 

“Oh,” Sean nodded, “That’s what’s up? What did you want to know?”

 

Stardust frowned, “I’m sorry, How do you know-”

 

“Me and G here,” Sean pointed between them, “We were the Dracs there.”

 

“Defected, most of the Secret Police are,” Gerald nodded at the loud group, “Most of us were teenagers, trying to get money and shit for our families.”

 

Stardust crossed his arms, “And you were responsible-”

 

“No,” Sean shook his head quick, “Most of us were too pilled up to care, and we were just grunts, it was the Exterminators leading the group that set everything off.” The group began to quiet down, only a few stopping in their jokes to listen.

 

“So it was BLi that set the fire...” Dallon muttered.

 

“Yeah,” Gerald nodded, “They briefed us before, talking about how we have to make room for something, I barely remember anything except movement back then, though.”

 

Stardust nodded, “Do you have any idea what it was they were trying to do? At all?”

 

“No, I said so,” Gerald looked again through shadowed eyes, “ It had to be The Outskirts, though, we started with small houses first, garages, then moved to bigger apartments…”

 

“There was barely anything left by the end.” Sean near whispered, “Bodies were stacked… I see it dreams, through that mask.” Dallon squeezed his shoulders inward.

 

“That was when I quit,” Gerald said, “ I was barely a teenager, but I came out of it fast… I smuggled a few kids out, along with Sean here.”

 

Stardust thought for a moment, “I… Thank you, Destroya will forgive you for what you’ve done.”

 

“Don’t need it old man,” Gerald sat on a bench, close to another member of The Secret Police, “I got these assholes, we forgive each other.” Sean nodded.

 

“Um…” Dallon started, and Stardust turned to listen, “Do you know who those kids were?”

 

Gerald shook his head, “No, maybe if I saw them again I might know, fuck knows it’s burned into my memory.” Dallon nodded, while miles upon miles away, Young Vein sat in the back of a cherry convertible dreaming a dream of fire and death.

 

_“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”_

_―_ _George Orwell_ _,_ _1984_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh I know what a mystery (looks pointedly at you) I love this chapter btw I love talking more than action in terms of writing, politics is so fun, but at the same time I LOVE ACTION  
> Please let me know what you think!


	12. Defiance

 

_“You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.”_

_―_ _Chuck Palahniuk_ _,_ _Survivor_

 

He wakes up when the Cherry stops.

 

A tire had blown, a small tear in the rubber that made the car tilt. Mona Lisa finally had to stop under the ruins of a pre-Wars parking garage, the cement torn and scattered, attempting to stay together with the rusted iron bars that had held it steady once before.

 

Vein could see deep shadows in the parts where the cement pieces crowded together, places the hot sun couldn’t touch.

 

He rubbed his eyes and hopped out of the car, ignoring Baby Snakes cries of anger and disgust as he examined the wheel. “Are you… actually kidding me!? This piece of-” He kicked the sand fiercely, “-shit!”

 

Mona Lisa went over to meet him, before turning back to pop the trunk, “Good thing you have a spare… I look over the engine too, just in case.”

 

Snake bent down to examine the tire once more, still furious and red in the face, “This fucking, I can’t believe this… It takes us thousands of miles over fucking _sand_ , it blows out over a _fucking bump_.” Glass, who was usually the one to stay silent and in the backseat, clambered out to join Baby Snake’s brief investigation of the tire.

 

He bent down and nodded, looking at the tire with a furrowed brow, “ _Hm._ ” He said.

 

The two of them stood, “What do think?” Baby Snake asked him, slightly confused.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Glass shook his head, a minute smile playing on his lips that Vein had to struggle to see, if it was even there, “ _I don’t know anything about cars._ ”

 

Baby Snake spluttered and pushed him back by his shoulders, but he was laughing, and Young Vein grinned before turning away, “Hey, I’m gonna take a look around,” He said to Mona Lisa, who nodded, giving him a thumbs up as he looked into the engine.

 

“Hey!” Ian finally jumped out of the car, “I’ll come with! I gotta take a piss.”

 

Young Vein frowned but motioned for him to follow.

 

Ian jogged to catch up, “Thanks.”

 

“It’s milkshakes,” Vein shrugged, it was a way to say: _No Problem._

 

“Yeah,” Ian tapped his fingers on his thigh as they walked deeper into the ruins, climbing onto cement boulders and jumping off.

 

“So,” Vein picked at the dirt under his fingernails, “Why did… Why come along?”

 

“What do you mean?” Ian’s voice echoed as he looked into a dark cave formed from broken cement, trying to find an acceptable place to take a piss.

 

“I mean, why follow us? You did mention you aren’t close with Brobeck, so why?”

 

“I mean, I don’t know,” Ian didn’t find the cave nice enough, “I like the guy? He’s nicer than a lot of screwheads out here.”

 

Young Vein nodded, “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“Oh!” Ian looked past Vein to a collection of cement parts, stacked and held together by their own will, “That’s perfect!” He rushed past, already undoing his belt as he shielded himself from Young Veins field of vision.

 

He rolled his eyes as he waited, pawing at the ground with his foot, “Hey, can you hurry up?” He called back.

 

“Did you _seriously_ just ask me that?” Ian yelled back. Vein sighed and turned away from the cement, expecting the sun in his eyes and a view of the desert.

 

Instead, he almost smacked his face into someone’s chest.

 

* * *

 

_The Outskirts, years ago._

 

The markers hadn’t been cheap.

 

Their colors were darker than Ryan had wanted, and the yellow was stained black by the foolish previous owner.

 

But he loved them.

 

He was far more careful with them now than when he was younger too, by which he meant a week ago when he had used the black to trace a collection of intricate lines under his eyes, finishing the look with a scribbling of red that covered his eyebrows.

 

His mother had scrubbed it off the second she had seen him, lecturing him on the importance of rationing and being grateful for what he had. So Ryan had stuffed the markers deep in the drawers of his rickety dresser, promising to only take them out for situations of the utmost importance.

 

Now, a week later (A week filled with growing up, he thinks he’s probably ten now, from all the maturing he’s done), such an occasion arose.

 

Paper.

 

His mother had come home with paper. Proudly slamming the rotting olive colored front door behind her and displaying it in front of herself for the entire house to see.

 

It was stark and unnaturally white, covered in a thin sheet of plastic that shined in the dim light like their damp house’s own personal sun.

 

Ryan stared, his mouth agape, and she smiled and rubbed his cheek with her thumb, “Only because I couldn't get you anything for your last birthday, call this an extremely early present.”

 

“So I’m ten now?” He asked her with a crinkle in his brow.

 

She tilted her head and smiled, “If you want.”

 

Then she spread a thin blanket over the floor, carefully tearing apart the plastic and crumpling up the black logo so Ryan wouldn’t see, and spread three sheets of the white paper on the floor in front of him. He ran to collect his markers.

 

“Use both the front and back honey!” She called after him, taking a sheet of her own.

 

He lays back down, supported by his elbows as he snaps off the caps of the markers, making dirty maroon marks on the crisp paper all afternoon.

 

* * *

 

 

_Zone 1, now._

 

At first, he didn’t register what exactly it was that he had hit, his fingers gripping the stained and thinning material of an old blue t-shirt that smelled like rot and cold air. Then he looked up, at the square face of a Wave Head.

 

Burned thin and dotted red and pink. His lips were cracked and bloody, and the stubble on his chin almost looked painful to grow, mixed with red burns that shined in the sun.

 

Vein’s eyes widened, taking a shaky step back as the man looked down at him, his glassy eyes blank.

 

 _Glass,_ Young Vein thought, _He’s like Glass._

 

Except he wasn’t.

 

Where Glass still had his skin intact, this man had simply seemed to shed it off, and where Glass seemed to hold a light of recognition in his eyes, this man’s were empty, clouded and filled with radiation. They had almost turned a sickly green color from exposure, it clouded the whites of his eyes and infected his irises, Young Vein gulped.

 

The Wave Head looked at him, then a barely noticeable frown ghosted across his features, awareness came to his eyes as he looked Vein up and down, then turned his attention to himself.

 

He was a hulk of a man, at least compared to Vein’s thin frame, and he towered easily over him, but his face was small, almost like a kid’s had it not been for the faint lines of age that could be seen under his burns.

 

The Wave Head squinted, looking down at his hands, _“I… Did you?”_ His voice was starved for water and reminded Vein of a teenager's, the way it over pronounced every letter.

 

“Did I…” Vein stared up at him, trying to control his fear of being tackled by a man much larger than himself, even if he was a Wave Head, “What?”

 

The Wave Head reached slowly up to feel his hair, tangled and wispy in places, “ _I was… I was soaking! Pulling ‘em in!”_ He frowned deeper, _“I was getting a good ride! You woke me up!”_ He jabbed a sunburned finger at Young Vein, who shook his head frantically.

 

“No, no!” He showed his palms, “I didn’t even know you were here!”

 

Ian stepped out from behind the pile, zipping up his dark jeans, “-Oh man, I’ve been needing to go since-” He stopped, Young Vein couldn’t see his expression, but the way his voice cut off was clue enough.

 

Glass already scared Ian enough, but this Wave Head was an end result Ian had yet to experience.

 

“ _Bather,”_ Ian squeaked, bolting back the way they had come at top speed, “Bather!”

 

Young Vein could feel the blood rush to his face, “I-I’m sorry, I know that’s-”

 

 _“I’m not!”_ The Wave Head rasped, _“You tell him I’m not!”_

 

Young Vein nodded, “Yeah, yeah okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you up, but I swear I’ll tell him.”

 

 _“You did!_ ” The Wave Head seemed close to tears, _“How else!? I’ve been floating so well! Eight days! How the fuck-!”_ He began to step toward Vein, squeezing his fists. Young Vein backed up as fast as he could, still showing his palms. His heels hit a thick piece of cement that stuck out of the sand and blocked his path.

 

The Wave Head, whose face and gotten somehow even redder, grabbed the color of Young Vein’s shirt, pulling him off the cement and raising his curled fist.

 

Young Vein squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find purchase in the sand below his feet to steady himself, hopefully, to find leverage-

 

 _“Tom?”_ Glass’s soft voice came from somewhere behind-

 

The Wave Head’s fist collided with Young Vein’s face.

 

* * *

 

 

_The Outskirts, years ago._

 

Ryan fell to the dark concrete of the alleyway, the damp gravel sticking to his palms and digging into his skin. He spat out a tooth, he didn’t care, it was coming out anyway.

 

“Say it!” Nicholas spat down at him.

 

“Shut up!” Ryan yelled back, “I won’t!” He watched Kevin dig through his backpack behind Nick, going through Ryan’s things with reckless abandon.

 

“Doesn’t make it less true, rat boy!” Nick stuck his tongue out as Ryan got back onto his feet.

 

“Shut up!” Ryan pushed him back into the wall.

 

Nick pushed back harder, sending Ryan stumbling back again, so Ryan went for Kevin, after his backpack.

 

Kevin threw the backpack to the side with a laugh that echoed in Ryan’s ears. The paper, still crisp and white in a rusting binder clip his mother had found at the bottom of the drawer slid out, getting soaked in the mud and water.

 

“No!” Ryan took a step toward the paper but turned back to give Kevin a slap to the cheek. It sent him into the wall in pain, and Ryan felt the sting on his palm.

 

It felt good.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Nick snorted, “Did your dad give it to you? Probably bought it with all the carbons he got _smiling._ ”

 

“Stop it!” Ryan’s voice got shrill.

 

They ganged together in front of him, with Nick cracking his knuckles theatrically. Kevin grabbed Ryan’s shirt again, preparing to either punch him again or throw him to the ground.

 

“Hey,” Nick laughed, “You could-” He laughed again, “You could take his markers, write all over rat boy's face!” Kevin nodded.

 

“Hand ‘em to me.” He waved his hand at Ryan’s abandoned backpack and Nick scurried over. Ryan struggled against Kevin.

 

“You can’t just waste ‘em like that!” He reached forward, “Please! They were a present!”

 

“From his dad probably!” Nick yelled back.

 

“Heh, yeah…” Kevin snorted.

 

“Hey!” A voice at the entrance of the alleyway.

 

“What-?” Nick stood and was tackled by a boy in stained flannel, who punched him twice in the mouth before he could scrabble away. “Wha-!” He stood and stumbled away, “Kevin! Kevin, come on!” Kevin turned to confront the boy, who could easily dodge around him thanks to kevin’s sloppiness.

 

“Holy-!” Nick grabbed Kevin away, “That’s-!” Kevin pointed back as Nick hauled him away.

 

“Come on! My aunt says he’s got radio waves in his blood!” Nick yelled as they both escaped down the alley, “He’ll infect us!”

 

Ryan stood up on shaking leg and attempted to dust himself off, his arms and stomach were bruised, but the paper lying scattered throughout the alley was his man concern.

 

“Hey,” Brent Wilson smiled up at him, “Are you okay?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Ryan nodded, “I just…” He knelt down to pick up the paper, feeling tears prick at his eyes. He forced them not to fall.

 

“I think I cut my knuckles on his teeth…” Brent examined his hand, “But it’s okay, my dad can wrap it up,” He sniffed. “They’re so scared of me, it’s kinda funny.” He finally looked back up at Ryan, “Oh, hey… It’s okay, the paper will dry, it’s not all ruined, see?” Brent half crawled over to Ryan’s backpack, “See?” He repeated, “You still have like… Half the package!”

 

Ryan didn’t want to cry, but he wiped his eyes anyway, “I was coming to get you, I… I wanted to show you it, and my mom got it yesterday…”

 

“That’s so cool!” Brent smiled wider, nodding, “My mom got us some cookies yesterday for my dad’s birthday! You can come over and draw and have one!”

 

* * *

 

 

_Zone 1, now._

 

For a moment it felt like an entire half of his face was on fire, and he had to struggle to stay conscious, fighting through a haze that made his mouth taste like copper. There was a ringing sound that came from far away, eclipsing everything else before Glass’s voice came through like breaking through the static on the radio.

 

_“Tom!”_

 

There was another hand on his shoulder, pushing him to the ground. He squinted up to get a look at the culprit.

 

Glass stood partially in front of him, confronting Tom, who looked like a mountain next to Glass’s skinny frame. Young Vein took back his earlier thoughts, the Wave Head, Tom, knew what he was doing when he used his fists.

 

 _“You!”_ Tom seemed surprised but happy at Glass’s sudden appearance, _“Brendon… You have to help me! He…” Tom pointed shakily at Vein, “His friend, they called me a Bather, woke me up…”_

 

 _“There are worse things to be called Tom,”_ Glass planted himself in front of Vein, _“Why would they wake you up anyway? You’re not wet, you woke up yourself.”_

 

 _“No! He… He… I can’t, I’ve been going for so long I gotta…”_ Tom finally backed away, struggling against an unseen force, _“Oh shit, what if… What if I missed him?”_

 

Young Vein finally stood, bracing himself against the cement to push himself to his feet.

 

 _“Missed who? Tom?”_ Glass copied Tom’s movement to shield Young Vien.

 

 _“I gotta...I got a message, I don’t know how but… Mark!”_ Tom grabbed Glass by the shoulders so hard Young Vein thought his bones would snap, but Glass was only shaken lightly, tripping backward while Tom continued. _“He was in the city! But I heard from him, I… I need to see him!”_

 

 _“What does… Mark, want?”_ Glass furrowed his brow, concerned, _“Who… Who is he?”_

 

 _“He sees things, in his head,”_ Tom took his hands off of Glass to pull at his own hair, _“We’re… We’re friends but… I haven’t seen him! But he knows stuff! Before it happens! He sent me a message, I have to find him! He can help me! He can help us!”_

 

 _“Help us?”_ Glass looked back at Young Vein for a second, then turned back to Tom, _“You mean… Wave Heads?”_

 

 _“I can’t-”_ Tom started to hit his palms softly against his forehead, _“It’s because of Dee Dee, I swear, ever since he got… Dusted.”_ Glass tensed and Young Vein could remember something Glass had told him back at the Shithole, about another Wave Head that had taken him in, one that he had followed before Broback and Baby Snake had entered the picture.

 

_“What’s… What’s happening because of Dee Dee, Tom?”_

 

 _“Things… When I go under, I see things, I know it’s not me, Brendon!”_ Tom seemed to suddenly become smaller, and he grabbed at Glass’s dirty tank top with desperate fingers, _“We’re all seeing things! Dee Dee’s got us cursed! I can’t see Travis no more just… Terrible things, things I can’t get out of my head, I just want Travis back Brendon! I’m not lying I swear, you’ve seen it too right?”_ He was almost begging, and Young Vein could feel his pulse in his ears, his heart pounding in a fear that didn’t have a name.

 

Glass was still for what felt like an eternity, and Tom had finally collapsed to his knees, tears streaking down his burnt face, it was almost too much for Young Vein to watch, _“Right?”_ Tom pulled on Glass again.

 

Glass nodded softly, _“Yeah, I’m seeing things.”_

 

_“That’s why we need Mark, Brendon! He can help! He can make it stop and bring back Travis and… and Sarah too!”_

 

Glass flinched away like he had been electrocuted, his fingers twitched and he stared down at Tom, his shoulders raised in shock.

 

 _“You… You gotta help me find him, Brendon,_ please _,”_ Tom didn’t notice Glass’s sudden departure, but Young Vein did. He crept forward, his hand outstretched to touch his shoulder.

 

“Glass?”

 

Glass whipped around, almost ready to give Young Vein another punch to the jaw, and he dodged away quick, seeing the same unfamiliar look in his eyes that had appeared what seemed like an eternity ago.

 

“Glass!”

 

The look disappeared just as fast, and Glass shivered as he looked down at Tom, who was shivering, clutching his stomach and pulling at his hair.

 

 _“I… I’ll look for him,”_ Glass said to him, _“I’ll help.”_

 

 _“Travis…”_ Tom wasn’t listening anymore, and Glass grabbed Young Vein by the arm, pulling as hard as he could away from the man.

 

“Glass-” Young Vein tried to stop him, “- Glass!” He pulled away once Tom was out of site, “What happened? What was that?” He pointed back the way they had come, “Who’s-”

 

Glass’s hand was suddenly over his mouth, he had moved so fast Young Vein didn’t even blink when he had gotten there, but his angry expression was replaced by something different. Something desperate.

 

 _“Please,”_ Glass’s eyes shone with tears, _“_ Please _Ryan, please don’t.”_ His bottom lip trembled, and he waited for Young Vein to nod before letting go.

 

They stood away from each other for a moment, refusing to look at the other until Glass said: _“Baby Snake is waiting, I said he should stay back… Ian won’t look at me.”_

 

“Ian is an idiot,” Vein looked down at his feet.

 

He paused before taking in a breath, “Thank you.”

 

Glass looked back up at him, _“It’s okay.”_ Sneaking tears trailed down his cheeks.

 

Young Vein sighs heavily, “Fuck,” He whispers, “It’s really not, fuck this is so stupid.”

 

Glass frowns at him, suddenly afraid.

 

“We’re friends, right?” Vein stares back at him.

Glass nods weakly, _“Yeah?”_ He’s hesitant, not wanting to give anything away.

 

“Then… For fuck’s sake let’s fucking act like it again! You yelled, I took it personally, but that’s so stupid, what you just did for me makes that clear,” Glass is bewildered, but nods anyway as Young Vein continues. “I want us to just talk to each other okay?”

 

Glass stared for a moment, but softened, “I do too.”

 

“Good,” Young Vein nodded tersely, “Because when this is over, and we find Brobeck… I want you to be a part of the Danger Blues.”

 

* * *

 

_The Outskirts, years ago._

 

“Hey, I was thinkin’ you could sleepover?”

 

Brent kicked sand from his shoes, the way to his house crossed the street and passed the edge of the desert. Ryan’s mom called it ‘Zone 1’.

 

“I thought only girls did that.” Ryan looked out across the endless sea of sand to their right.

 

“Nuh-uh!” Brent frowned, “I had a sleepover with Sandy and _they’re_ not a girl.”

 

“Well, I didn’t know he-” Ryan paused, “I didn’t know they did that.”

 

“So you’ll sleep over?” Brent asked, “My mom said you could! Since your dad’s away…” He was eager and smiled before coughing harshly into his elbow. Ryan stops to pat him on the back, waiting for him to finish.

 

While Brent caught his breath again, Ryan looked back across the street, almost stumbling back when he saw the Draculoids that had stationed themselves on the street corner, almost as if they had been selling newspapers before assuming an alert position in response to Brent’s coughing. Their masked eyes didn’t give away direction, but Ryan knew, somehow, they were looking at him. Maybe it was just his brain playing tricks, or maybe they were just standing at the corner.

 

“C’mon Brent, let’s go.” He pushes Brent’s shoulders slightly.

 

The Dracs had black on. Instead of white.

 

They were voluntarily under the masks, not like the many criminals that mockingly displayed their crimes by wearing an ugly bleached white. Scrubbed clean and crisp, hurting Ryan’s eyes.

 

“Okay,” Brent didn’t protest, “Sorry.”

 

* * *

 

_Zone 1, now._

 

The wheel had gotten replaced, and Mona Lisa had nearly cried laughing at Ian’s terrified expression, running from Tom and leaving Young Vein to the mercy of a Wave Head.

 

Then Young Vein had come back with Glass, and Mona Lisa’s laughter came back through short, uncontrolled bursts of giggling, almost creepy sounding as he dabbed Vein’s face with a damp and dirty rag. “You know-” Mona snorted, “I think you could start a fight with a brick wall… A _wave head?_ ”

 

“He punched me,” Young Vein kept his voice neutral, “I did _not_ start a fight.”

 

Mona Lisa took in a rattling breath, “You should have seen Ian holy shit,” He finally simmered down to smaller, less invasive chortles, “I mean, I had a dream last night, and I could hear screaming, but I woke up smiling… This is so much better than what I _saw._ ”

 

Young Vein caught Glass’s eye a few feet away, they exchanged quick smiles as Ian wrapped his arms around himself, hastily apologizing for his use of the word: _Bather_.

 

That moment came back to the forefront of his mind: _Bather, seeing things, Mark, Sarah._

 

He looked away as Glass accepted the apology.

 

Ian and Baby Snake took the front seats this time as they set off, Vein in the middle of Mona and Glass in the back. They traded jokes and even Glass seemed to laugh easier.

 

But his pleading voice from the cement trap miles ago stayed in Young Vein’s brain.

 

_Please Ryan, please, please don’t._

 

It only added to the mystery that Young Vein wasn’t even aware of until now.

 

For a while, he only stared at the desert as it passed, unaware of his heavy eyelids until they dropped completely.

 

His dream started like this:

 

Glass.

 

He stood in front of Vein, his skin suddenly clear of burns and his eyes void of pupils, but the way he was laughing made him light up the darkness surrounding them.

 

Young Vein laughed along with him.

 

“Do you even know what happened?” Brendon laughed.

 

 _“Not really,”_ Ryan smiled, _“I just remember feeling like my feet were on fire!”_

 

“Why didn’t you wear shoes?” Brendon asked incredulously.

 

 _“I don’t know I was like six,”_ Ryan responded, shrugging with a large grin.

 

Brendon giggled, his eyes squinted in laughter.

 

There was suddenly an earth-shattering _BOOM!_ that sent Ryan stumbling forward, almost hitting Brendon until he realized that Brendon was farther away. Still laughing at Ryan’s story with his blank white eyes.

 

There was another sound, a sort of crack that almost seemed to travel up Ryan’s legs and sending him to the floor. Creaking wood and the smell of burning rubber let him know where he was almost instantly.

 

He was a little kid again, breathing in smoke and huddling in the corner of his small house.

 

Large, clunky boots appeared in front of him, black and smeared with ash.

 

A Draculoid.

 

It took Ryan’s hands and pulled him up to his feet, removing the mask.

 

He had no face.

 

Just a black hole that melted everything it touched, sucking it into itself.

 

A mess of garbled words found its way through the vortex:

 

**Iamggrct;!IShE?SocIA’GLte??555404 AhhHY;]SHS**

 

**AbsLTTTTT4    : hhchchttttwhere?**

 

**?      U-**

 

 _“Stop!”_ Ryan finally screamed, his voice shrill and sounding younger than he really was, he kicked at the figure as it threw him over its shoulder, still speaking from a mouthless face. _“Stop! Please! Sto-!”_ Without warning he began to gasp for air, his surroundings distorting as the thing with no face carried him from his house.

 

Fire licked at his skin, burning his flesh and turning it black. He screamed, or at least tried to, pushing against the block in the back of his throat that seemed to almost be squeezing his windpipe.

 

The mess of fire and ash began to distort with the figure, melting and glitching around Ryan as the figure struggled to keep hold of him, until finally falling victim to its own influence, twitching and its bones cracking and clicking against each other.

 

It dropped Ryan, reaching for its face in what might have been desperation. Ryan was left on the ground, retching and struggling to breathe through the smoke and fire. Around him, the world crumbled to dust and flames, he could hear laughing in the distance, so clear and uninterrupted that it almost hurt to listen to.

 

The figure dropped to its knees and beside it, a new figure stood, only for a second, glitching in and out of view for the brief time it existed.

 

Through clouded vision, Ryan could see its face.

 

A gruesome smile and a greasy mess of hair that shrouded his eyes. It’s expression was one of shock, bewilderment, then it looked Ryan in the eye.

 

It was only for a second, but he was able to take a breath, so deep it rattled his lungs.

 

He recognized it.

 

It spoke.

 

**how di-**

 

It finally disappeared for the last time.

 

Young Vein was woken up when the Cherry swerved to avoid a buzzing motorcycle that nearly clipped the front of the car. “Oh, what the _fuck!”_

 

Baby Snake twisted the wheel, rousing the rest of the group from whatever stage of sleep they were in with a start. Out of all of them, besides Baby Snake, Glass was the most aware.

 

 _“Look out!”_ He tried shouting, pointing to the bright lights, shining from the direction the motorcycle had come from.

 

There was a quiet _phtew!_ that echoed through the air, and the left side view mirror was nearly blown off, sending small bits of glass in every direction.

 

Baby Snake was ready to throttle somebody.

 

“It’s Dracs!” Ian yelled, pointing to the cloud in the distance. Young Vein took a second to unclip his gun from his belt and Mona copied him, undoing his seatbelt to kneel up on the seat and pointing his gun toward the BLi pigs.

 

“I’m punching it!” Baby Snake turned the vehicle as fast as he could toward a collection of dunes and joshua trees. Both Young Vein and Mona let off a burst of shots as the gang of Dracs grew closer, he could hear their shouts of excitement on the wind as one of their buddies was knocked to their knees, eating sand and blood.

 

Glass was gripping the back of Young Veins shirt, trying to balance himself in the erratically moving car.

 

Then all at once, they pulled behind a dune and skidded to a stop. Mona went crashing into Baby Snake’s seat in front of them and Ian braced himself on the dashboard.

 

They were all breathing heavy, silence permeated the air until Baby Snake clambered out, stomping towards what Young Vein could now see was the man on the motorcycle.

 

“You-!” He pulled the man up by his shirt collar, “You could have killed us!”

 

* * *

 

 

_The Outskirts, years ago._

 

“It’s always nice to get new things…” Brent’s soft-spoken mother had offered them a cookie when they had entered the house, cooing over the paper and asking Ryan about his hair, which seemed to get longer and curlier every time she saw him.

 

It made Ryan blush, she always called him handsome.

 

Then Brent would punch him in the arm.

 

The rest of the afternoon was spent on the floor of the tiny kitchen, tracing over the pictures in magazines with a marker, Brent favored the blue and Ryan kept to the maroon.

 

There was a heavy quiet that settled over the thinly walled house, maybe that was the reason it groaned and creaked whenever someone in the house moved. Brent’s father worked at the cannery in the Inner part of the city, with Ryan’s mom, while Brent’s mother resigned herself to the cutting hair in a small shop in the Lobby.

 

She was fragile, Ryan’s mom had told him, but not like you would expect.

 

But she was home today, chewing her fingernails while she read a thick book, tucking her knees in as she sat on the couch. Once in awhile, whenever Brent would cough or shiver, she would stare at him, long and calculating, until it seemed fit to look away.

 

They were soon interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Mrs. Wilson threw her book down and opened the door with a soft creak. Brent kept drawing, but Ryan looked up to catch sight of a woman in black.

 

She was tall and thin, made up of angles, and her light, wood colored hair was pulled back in a soft bun.

 

“Leann!” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed, louder than Ryan had ever heard her, “I had no idea-”

 

“It was spur of the moment,” Leann soothed, “Can I come in?”

 

“Oh yes of course…” Mrs. Wilson turned back, “Boys! Out of the kitchen.”

 

“Mom!” Brent sat up with a shocked expression.

 

“Now.”

 

Ryan began to hurriedly pick up the markers and paper but watched ‘Leann’ as she stepped into the house.

 

She contrasted heavily with everything that surrounded her, her black high heels were pointed and shined, and her clothes were expensive, washed clean and without moth holes. Ryan could only imagine touching it.

 

For almost a century, he stared at this woman, open mouthed.

 

With a red lipstick mouth, Leann smiled at him, “Hello Ryan,” She nodded.

 

“Are you from the Inner City?” He asked quickly, then blushed.

 

Leann tilted her head and Brent pulled him from the kitchen to his parent's bedroom.

 

Before Brent shut the door behind them, Ryan could hear Leann say: “Have you seen them?”

 

Mrs. Wilson responded, “Yes, I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Zone 1, now._

 

“Hey…” Mona Lisa rechecked his gun and pointed to the man,  “It’s Sixx!”

 

“From Hyper Thrust?” Young Vein perked up.

 

Sixx tilted his head to look at them, “Oh hey!” His smile was strained, but his blue eyes were sparkling underneath his mask. “The Danger Blues!”

 

Baby Snake threw him down in defeat.

 

Sixx laughed, “My week is finally getting better!”

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Mona asked.

 

“Running from pigs what do you think?” Sixx glanced at the rest of their party, then at Baby Snake, “Sorry I almost got hit by your car.”

 

“That is not an apology!” Baby Snake clenched his teeth.

 

Sixx dodged his gaze with a laugh, running up the side of the dune to check on the Dracs, Young Vein and Mona followed, securing their masks and firing shots at the fast approaching group. “There isn’t too many,” Sixx reasoned, “Not with you guys here anyway…” He looked down at Baby Snake, “Do you have a gun?”

 

Glass, who was still in the car, dug through the center console and tossed Baby Snake’s ray gun.

 

Baby Snake caught it with little difficulty.

 

Sixx frowned, nodding before turning to Young Vein, “ Why are you guys traveling with a Wave Head? And that klepto?” He gestured to Ian.

 

“I’m not a klepto!”

 

“They're our friends,”  Young Vein frowned, “We’re helping them find-” A shot from a ray gun interrupted him, sending him down under the cover of the dune, Mona and Sixx fired back and Baby Snake ran up to join them.

 

“We should go hand to hand!” Mona yelled, dodging a blast the whizzed past his hair, “Or we’ll be here all day!” He managed to catch a Drac in the leg, sending it to the ground, it’s buddies whooped in excitement.

 

“We can’t just-” Young Vein was cut off when a Drac pulled on his shirt collar.

 

It had sneaked up the side of the dune while they had been busy shooting up the group in the distance.

 

The Drac laughed and Vein struggled until Sixx shot it straight through the head, sending its body sprawling back and Young Vein stumbling to get away.

 

Sixx looked as surprised as Vein felt.

 

“Sorry…” He began.

 

“Thanks,” Young Vein gulped, looking back down at Glass and Ian, who were huddled in the Cherry, looking up at him in shock.

 

More Dracs began climbing up the dune, abandoning their plan to keep their distance, Baby Snake shot one in the chest and whipped another.

 

“Fuck it, let’s go!” Young Vein jumped over the ridge and Mona followed, covering his back.

 

Sixx looked ready, hurtling himself over and slamming the sole of his boot into one Drac’s face. Baby Snake stayed where he was, shooting from a distance, he could aim better than The Green Man, Young Vein thought, almost.

 

Mona and Vein did their usual technique, shooting to the sides and the back to back, Dracs were unpredictable at best, but they never stopped moving, never stopped shouting, and they were always slow on the draw.

 

Young Vein knew they had no peripheral vision, their masks, got more in the way than it helped them, and he used it to his advantage.

 

He felt, suddenly, like his lungs were opening, his chest was lighter, and his shoulders loosened, every shot and punch he threw were opening him up, freeing the tension he had been holding since Hyper Thrust. He cheered when Mona slammed into his back, shooting one Drac while Vein got the other side.

 

Sixx threw one to the ground a few feet away, smiling with pierced lips, and Baby Snake was quick and sensitive with the trigger, putting one down after the next, after the next.

 

Sweat ate the skin beneath his mask, he was breathing heavy, giving a Drac a swift kick where he knew it would hurt, jumping back from the kick from his gun. Somewhere, Ian was laughing.

 

He had forgotten this.

 

He had been _missing this._

 

_He was a fucking Killjoy._

 

Mona Lisa delivered the last blow, near curb-stomping a Drac into the sand and knocking it out. Ian cheered, laughing next to Baby Snake, Glass clapped, smiling. Young Vein sat down as fast as he could, breathing heavy but in high spirits.

 

“That is… Danger Blues: 1!” Ian slid down the dune to pound fists with Sixx, “And BLi pigs: 0!”

 

“Holy shit,” Vein sighed, realizing his own injuries. There was a cut on his forehead, and his stomach was bruised, he spits blood from his tongue and felt for any teeth, praising the gods above none were loose and no bones were broken. Mona and Sixx were the same, getting off easy with a few scrapes and bumps.

 

Glass began to clamber down, turning to ask for Baby Snake’s help, then stopping.

 

Young Vein felt like his heart had climbed up his throat.

 

“Hey,” He stood, ignoring his throbbing limbs, “Hey!” He called, getting Mona and Sixx’s attention. Ian was looking through a Drac’s pockets.

 

Baby Snake no longer stood at the top of the dune.

 

Glass was the first to his side before Young Vein.

 

He had fallen backward onto his back, his breathing labored but not gone.

 

“I didn’t- didn’t notice,” He was trying to apply pressure to it.

 

His clothes were burnt and singed, and smoked around where the blast had gotten him.

 

On his left side under his collar, it was almost impossible to tell where it had actually hit his shirt was so soaked and burnt.

 

“But…” Mona’s hands were levitating over the blood, Glass was in shock, his eyes red as he stared at Baby Snake. “But it should be burnt and- and-”

 

He was speaking from experience, having gotten hit ages ago, his wound had cauterized slightly from the hit of the ray gun, part of BLi’s initiative to incapacitate and re-educate.

 

“I didn’t-didn’t see, but,” Baby Snake took in a deep breath, wincing from pain and trying to sit up, “But it was- it was from the back, farther away, it would-wouldn’t do that.”

 

Sixx had his head in his hands, “Shit shit shit, fuck, this is my fault-”

 

“He’s not dead!” Young Vein stood, yelling at him, “He’s not! Sixx! It can be fixed!” Ian was at the top of the ridge clutching a stolen ray gun he had taken off a Drac.

 

“None of us are Death Techs!” Mona finally puts pressure down, trying to help Glass help Baby Snake stand.

 

“Just-put me in- in the car and I’ll be- be fine,” Baby Snake stumbled, “I just need some- something to patch me up and- and we can go and get Bro… Brobeck in Settlement 4.”

 

 _“You know that won’t work Snake…”_ Glass finally spoke.

 

An entire geological age seemed to pass before Ian spoke: “He’s right,” They swung to look at him and he stepped back, “Both of them, sort of, but… Settlement 4 sounds big, right?” He nodded, “So we do what he says, we go to Settlement 4, there has to be Techs there! We patch him up and get there fast…” He stared at them all with wide, desperate eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

_The Outskirts, years ago._

 

Lunch time was met with yelling.

 

Ryan’s sleepover with Brent had come and gone, and he was expecting his mother to pick him up any minute now.

 

But the yelling and the shouting began as Mrs. Wilson had begun to make them both sandwiches, using the small jar of jelly sparingly, Mr. Wilson had come home an hour earlier, kissing his wife hello and heading to bed for a nap.

 

For a minute, Mrs. Wilson had Ryan and Brent stay quiet so she could listen, then she said: “Brent, honey… get your father.”

 

Brent gave Ryan a quick glance in confusion, then skipped away to his father’s room.

 

“What is it?” Ryan asked.

 

Mrs. Wilson didn’t answer.

 

She said: “Can you please… get your things, okay?”

 

“Okay…” Ryan slowly did as she said.

 

Until he looked out the living room window.

 

Draculoids, dressed in black, marching in small groups down the street a little farther away. They held long sticks and wore backpacks that seemed too heavy to be just simple woven material.

 

Ryan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

 

He was out the door and running up the street before Mrs. Wilson could even register he was gone.

 

Up the street was a different story and Ryan was almost carried with the screaming mass of people that ran or just limped past him, burnt and seared flesh filled his eyes and he almost couldn’t look away.

 

Stupidly, he ran towards the flames, past weeping residents of The Outskirts, mothers and fathers pulling children along at a snail's pace. He could even hear a few say his name, asking, no, yelling for him to run, get _away, they’re killing us all!_

 

He could feel the heat on his face.

 

_He wasn’t tall enough, he wasn’t strong enough!_

 

He was pushed against an old man that screeched from the contact, then another girl his age that wiped tears on his shirt and another man that simply kicked him to the street, he ran from the man and finally fell into a young woman’s grasp.

 

She examined him with wide, crazed eyes, “I see him,” She said as Ryan tried to tear himself from her vice-like grip, “In the fire,” She hissed, _“Mr. Brightside-”_ He pulled himself free and ran past, she called after him: “He will save us! With fire and blood!”

 

Then there was silence.

 

His home, his neighborhood, blackened by soot and burned to the ground as the flames moved on in their hungry mission from Better Living Industries.

 

Surely his house had survived?

 

But the wood that had built it was dry, he remembered how, just last night, he had watched a termite inch its way across his bedroom ceiling.

 

The steps to the front door were cement.

 

In the distance, he could hear the crowd.

 

Was his mother back at Brent’s? Or his father?

  
  
  
  


No.

 

His house had been kept upright, the roof kept up for only one reason.

 

He could see her.

 

She was near the bottom, her skin bubbled and her hair almost burnt off. But it was her.

 

The bodies that covered her up had no faces, Ryan couldn’t bare to look at them.

 

He sat down against the wall.

 

His knee was scraped, it stung every time he touched it.

 

Night came and he finally heard it.

 

A cough, “Ryan!”, a series of coughs, from the smoke and the sickness, “It’s Brent!”

 

“Ryan!” Another voice, older, unfamiliar.

 

“In here,” He said quietly, “Just… go away.”

 

They came anyway. Brent and a man he had never met before, who stared at the pile with anger and fear.

 

Brent squeezed his eyes shut and looked to Ryan. “Ryan! My… My parents! They… The Dracs…” He couldn’t finish.

 

The man, a teenager, wearing Exterminator gray said: “They’ll be coming soon, we need to leave.”

 

_“We pass through this world but once. Few tragedies can be more extensive than the stunting of life, few injustices deeper than the denial of an opportunity to strive or even to hope, by a limit imposed from without, but falsely identified as lying within.”_

_―_ _Stephen Jay Gould_ _,_ _The Mismeasure of Man_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy with this chapter!  
> It's been frustrating to get chapters out so slow lately, there's no way I would ever go on hiatus or stop writing this, there is so much lore and backstory that I want to get to and it's gonna pick up really soon! So I hope you stay with me, and tell me what you think!  
> Also I went to the Panic! show last Sunday and!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy s h i t


	13. Joyride

 

_ “One cannot answer for his courage when he has never been in danger.”  _

_ ―  _ _ François de La Rochefoucauld _ _ ,  _ _ Maxims _

 

Fuck.

 

Fuck fuck fuck.

 

His breathing was heavy and his hair was in his face and he could feel the sweat slide down his back underneath his stained yellow shirt.

 

His gun was out of juice, and the three zone rats he had decided to gang up with were nowhere in site.

 

Oh.

 

No, they were over there.

 

Shit.

 

Shit shit shit.

 

He knew his plan was shit, he was really looking for a way to die.

 

Then they fucking ruined it.

 

Fuck their car is nice too, he thought, what is it, a Range Rover?

 

The Dracs had been swarming, he had been surrounded, his tongue stuck out, he had tasted blood and they were calling his  _ name _ .

 

_ Iero _

 

_ Iero _

 

_ Iero _

 

_ Exterminator Iero- _

 

“Resistance is futile, baby!” He had echoed back. “You’ll never take me alive!”

 

He had been drunk at the time.

 

Then they had shown up, helping him, they had said, saw the dust cloud, you were alone-

 

“Fuck them,” He spit into the sand.

 

They were fixing up the car right now, making sure it wasn’t fried with ray gun blasts.

 

They had gotten themselves stuck in HIS business.

 

He had decided to tag along.

 

Only one of them was a Killjoy, real and bona fide, part of a small group he had only heard short stories of The Danger Blues. Now he was here, with a mail carrier and a City Rat.

 

The Green Man.

 

Incredible.

 

He recognized the mailman by name too, Horseshoe Crab, he looked too much like Jet Star for his own taste, both of them were assholes. Also, they, unfortunately, knew who he was too, recognizing him from Hyper Thrust.

 

The City Rat he could talk too, they spoke the same language, or, they at least had the same way of talking. Black Card, the Rat called himself, he would have to find a new name, it didn’t suit him.

 

They had told him their dumb plan too, it was dumb because it wasn’t a plan, more like a vague set of directions that didn’t include any explosives or an escape plan. He told them so and surprisingly they had agreed.

 

They want to help their friend, The Cobra, who in turn can help them find another friend and blah blah blah.

 

He didn’t care, he was just looking to get murdered.

 

“Alright!” The Green Man yelled at him, “It’s good! Let’s go!” 

 

They loaded up the Rover and he followed.

 

It was even nicer on the inside. Holy Shit.

 

“So,” Black Card hesitated, “You know where the Exterminators are keeping The Cobra?”

 

“Yeah,” He grumbled back, “Probably, I guess.”

 

“What should we call you? By the way,” Horseshoe asked him, “I heard them saying, Iero? Extermin-”

 

“No!” He snapped back, “You call me Fun Ghoul, that’s the only name I have.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s this way.”

 

“You said that,” The Green Guy slapped at his pointing finger, “It’s not very specific.”

 

“I don’t need to be specific if I know the way,” Fun Ghoul crossed his arms, fuck this guy.

 

East, West, North, Northeast, who cares?

 

Just learn the landmarks, the Zones can’t be mapped.

 

“Can you please just…” Green Man sighed, leaning heavily against the steering wheel, “take me through your process here, I can’t drive blindly, it makes me sick.”

 

Fun Ghoul sank his shoulders, “Yeah, okay, it’s easy, the fewer plants and shit there are, the closer we get to the city, we’re in Zone 1, so it’s harder to tell right?” He nodded, answering his own question, “So you look for flat land, smaller dunes, BLi is dumb, they don’t know discreet unless some Ninja from an action movie personally taught it to them, just look for bullshit like that.”

 

They stayed quiet, looking out the windows for any sign of what he had told them about.

 

“Like that?” Black Card pointed to the left and Fun Ghoul triumphantly scored the City Rat a few points in his head.

 

“Fuck yeah like that,” He said.

 

Where he had been indicating, the sand had been flattened down and filled with a confusing set of bumps and patterns, it was almost a little too obvious, but farther down, it would disappear for a spell, they would have to follow it for as long as they could before finding another path.

 

The Green Dude maneuvered toward it, thankfully not getting too close, and trailed it from a distance.

 

“So you follow this crap until it disappears, then you find another,” Ghoul leaned back in his seat, wiping his greasy hair out of his face, his eyelids suddenly felt heavy.

 

“Are you sure it’ll take us to the right one?” Horseshoe mailman asked from behind him, “What if he’s being held somewhere else?”

 

“He won’t be,” Ghoul tried to make it so the guy could hear him roll his eyes without even seeing him, “They always hold people in Zone 1, ever anywhere else, it’s all order to these guys, they’re predictable idiots.”

 

Fun Ghoul put himself to sleep as fast as he could.

 

Crab-with-big-hair woke him up with a squeeze on his shoulder, pointing through the windshield at a shadow in the distance, “Is that it?”

 

“What else would it be.”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

Greenie stopped the car, “How are we gonna do this?”

 

“They’re always held in the big truck,” Ghoul told them, “Makes it easier to transport them fast, they’ll be close to the city, so probably near the back of the camp, get the driver first before anything, they won’t leave the truck, even during something big.”

 

“Have you done this before?” The City Rat asked him.

 

“Yeah, sort of,” Fun Ghoul kept his expression blank, then turned to look at the camp, “Get us closer.”

 

Chico Verde started the engine with a little hesitation.

 

“They park their cars up here, away from camp… dumbasses,” Ghoul squinted when they came into view, “Stop, do you have a first aid kit?”

 

“Uh, yeah, it’s back here,” Horse Crabby pointed under the seat.

 

“Does it have any cotton?” Fun Ghoul was already going through the Dracs cars engine in his head, piecing it together and taking it apart, “Any alcohol?”

 

“Yeah, but not a lot, why-” Ghoul was out of the car before he could finish, making a mad dash for the car and popping the hood of the one closest cars, (an SUV looking vehicle most likely armed to the grill and the stuffing in the leather seats.) The battery wasn’t hard to find, it was getting it open that would be slightly harder.

 

The group stared at him as he ran back, slower now that he was lugging the battery, “Back up!” He whisper yelled, jumping back into his seat, “Back up!”

 

Green put the car back into reverse and back to their original position.

 

“Why did you-?” City Rat must not have been sure how to phrase the question.

 

“Give me a second,” Ghoul looked over the battery, usually the caps could be opened easily to add water or more juice to the battery, but Better Living’s batteries had been modified to accept a small code to open. For a second Fun Ghoul realized he could just take the Range Rover’s battery, but dismissed it quickly, there’s no way this group would let him near the engine, and it was a nice car, Ghoul didn’t want to kill it.

 

“Okay…” The code block didn’t look too strong and could be broken if he hit it hard enough, “Start driving around in a wide circle,” He pointed to the left and Greenie Boy listened.

 

“So what are you doing?” Horses Crab asked.

 

“You have the cotton?” Fun Ghoul asked, grabbing it when it was offered, it wasn’t a lot, but it would have to do. “So okay, you want your friends, but there’s gonna be a lot of Dracs surrounding them, I’m gonna help you make a distraction, nothing huge, but it’ll be fun.”

 

“Explosion?” City Rat ventured, Ghoul snapped his fingers at him.

 

“You still have that busted ray-gun?”

 

City Rat produced it from its holster, the poor thing was tired and broken, but its thick plastic would be helpful. “Okay, stop.” The Range Rover obeyed.

 

They all exited the vehicle and Fun Ghoul was prepared to give them a lesson on gun cotton one oh one. But he stopped.

 

“Why are you letting me do this?” He asked.   
  
The group was silent until City Rat answered simply: “Desperation.”

 

Fun Ghoul takes a moment to look at them again.

 

At the dark, ugly shadows under Black Card’s eyes, the extent of Horseshoe Crab’s unkempt wardrobe, and The Green Man’s nervous fidget, constantly glancing back and forth between the Drac camp and Ghoul.

 

Fun Ghoul understood the feeling, it was a constant in the Zones, or maybe it was for something else, and Ghoul just didn’t get to that part yet.

 

“Okay,” He knelt down in front of the battery, turned the gun around to hold it by the barrel, and hit the code as hard as he could, it broke so easy he was worried he had done something to alert BLi to their position, an air strike would come soon. He ignored that voice, “The cotton is gonna get soaked…” He placed the balls of fluff on the sand and tipped the battery, pouring acid on the pile.

 

“This is gonna explode?” The Green Man watched closely.

 

“Sort of, not a lot of fire, but a big bang…” Ghoul leaned over to grab the first aid kit, “The alcohol is gonna make it safer to carry, and it’ll have a delay, if it doesn’t have it, the cotton would explode the second you place a match to it.

 

When the process ended, he tore a bandana from his pocket and wrapped the cotton up without touching it, “I’m being nice cause I’m sober,” He shrugged, handing the package to The Green Man, “You’re gonna light it up.”

 

“What?” The Green Man pulled a face that his friends echoed.

 

“You know the car, you gotta be a getaway driver, I guess I was planning on doing it… But then you might not get out alive.” Fun Ghoul was looking to get murdered, but he would have to hold off if these runners wanted their friend back.

 

“Where do I put it?”

 

“Straight ahead,” Fun Ghoul pointed at the shadowy tents, “I have matches, you light one, and then you get back here fast, there won’t be fire, but the noise should be enough to get the Dracs away from the truck.”

 

Horseshoe Crab caught on, “And we walk to the truck in the back? You said there would be two there anyway?”

 

“We can take them out easy,” Fun Ghoul nodded, “But give us time before you light it up, say two minutes, and put it in a place that’ll have something break.” The Green Man nodded and Horseshoe Crab stood, murmuring to himself.

 

Black Card was last to stand, but he was quiet, thinking, “Okay,” He said, “Let’s go.”

 

The Green Man started the car, watched the three of them disappear over the dunes, and made his way to the camp. Fun Ghoul felt an ache of fear and grabbed his ray-gun.

 

* * *

 

 

The truck was shaking like a motherfucker, that’s how Fun Ghoul knew that’s where they were.

 

And the yelling for help.

 

Muffled and desperate, the Drac standing guard at the back was unbothered.

 

“There’s this one, and then one in the driver's seat…” Ghoul let himself breathe for a second, and his hot breath stirred the sand, “They keep the keys in the center console.”

 

“I can get to them,” Horseshoe fixed him with a steely glare.

 

Fun Ghoul believed him.

 

“Then we’ll get this guy,” Black Card pointed at the Drac guarding the shaking truck.

 

“After the expl-” Fun Ghoul was interrupted by a shockwave vibrating through his organs and seemingly shaking the ground, there was an almost immediate response of yelling from the Dracs making a mad dash to the other side of camp.

 

“Go!” Horseshoe Crab took off over the ridge, kicking up dust, the Drac at the back noticed and grabbed for him as he sprinted past.

Almost of one mind, Black Card and Fun Ghoul leaped over after him, grabbing the Drac by each arm and sending him to the ground, Black Card grunted in pain when his shoulder hit the ground and Fyn Ghoul tasted sand.

 

Blindly, Ghoul swung his fists and it impacted with the Dracs nose with an ugly crunch, it did not move again. Black Card coughed. “Cobra!” He rasped, jumping to the back of the trailer and pounding on the door, “Cobra, it’s me! Pete!”

 

Fun Ghoul pretended he hadn’t heard the name.

 

“Pete?” The shaking stopped, “Pete! You stupid-! What are you doing?”

 

Another voice from inside: “Pete? As in Black Card?”

 

“Suarez?” Black Card called, “Is there anyone else?”

 

Their conversation continued, and Fun Ghoul anxiously glanced back at the commotion in the distance. The Dracs would soon realize they had been duped.

 

Horseshoe tumbled around to the back from the other side, his eyes wide, his breathing heavy. He spits the key from his mouth, Fun Ghoul didn’t bother asking how it had ended up there as he grabbed it from him, shoving it into the lock.

 

“Hurry!” Black Card called, he had run to check on the Dracs progress at the explosion.

 

“Yes!” The Cobra and his buddy, Suarez, nervously pounded on the door, “Please! I can barely see anything, I’m worried I went blind…” The last part was almost too quiet to hear.

 

“They’re coming!” Black Card’s voice almost went shrill.

 

There was the sound of an engine as Fun Ghoul switched the key over in his hands, “Are you sure this is the right one!?” His hands were shaking.

 

“Fucking-” Horseshoe Crab shook his head and The Green Man brought the Range Rover to an almost screeching halt in front of them.

 

“Are you people so stupid?” He yelled frantically, “You have guns! That shoot lasers!”

 

Suarez banged on the truck, “”Somebody that actually has a brain!”

 

More engine sounds and Fun Ghoul jumped back, digging his gun and letting it crack against the lock with a burst of light, the door practically flew open and two raggedy looking young men practically stumbled from the trailer and onto the sand.

 

They were beaten and bruised and Black Card and Horseshoe Crab rushed forward to help them to their feet. Fun Ghoul wasted no time to sprint back to the Range Rover, in the distance, he could see the Dracs, furiously chasing after on foot.

 

Some had been smarter, loading themselves in the white SUVs and practically running over their comrades in their haste.

 

“C’mon! C’mon!” The Green Man was already putting the car in gear, “Holy shit! Hurry!”

 

Fun Ghoul practically jumped into the backseat, moving over for Horseshoe who climbed into the trunk and flew open the trunk. The Cobra writhed in the spot Black Card had put him, and Suarez sat back with him.

 

Black Card leaped into the passenger side and The Green Man didn’t wait for the doors to close before flooring it.

 

_ “Es la verdad!”  _ The Cobra clutched his face, moaning, “I have gone blind!”

 

“Shut up!” Suarez seemed annoyed, but leaned over The Cobra in hasty concern, “Show me!”

 

Fun Ghoul looked back at them, trying to ignore the white mass of Dracs in the distance.

 

The Cobra, a lanky boy with dramatic features, pulled his hands away from his face.

 

His eyes, which were a deep earthy brown, were rimmed with red and purple, and the whites were traced with tiny hairs width veins. Suarez was silent for a second, “You can’t see at all?”

 

“I can but… I can’t.” The Cobra struggled for words, “I don’t even remember them doing this-”

 

“But you can see?” Suarez asked, “Is it blurry? Or something else?” Horseshoe Crab joined Fun Ghoul to look.

 

The Cobra couldn’t answer, only reaching up to touch his own cheeks, he searched for Suarez and every once in awhile, he would find him, then he would lose sight and have to search again. “It hurts…” His eyes began to water, “I don’t… I’ve been cursed!”

 

“Who would curse you?!” Suarez grabbed The Cobra by his cheeks, directing his sight, “It was BLi! There’s no one else!”

 

Fun Ghoul sat back into his seat and Suarez and the Cobra faded into the background for a moment. He had never seen that before, but BLi was always changing, even as it stayed the same. It could be an infection, something they had put in him when he had been captured-

 

“They’re not gonna let up,” Suarez called from the back, “The Dracs I mean, you need to head somewhere they won’t follow.”

 

“Near the water,” Fun Ghoul looked up, “They’re afraid of it, even in masks and-”

 

“Why aren’t they shooting?” Horseshoe Crab leans back to watch the crowd of Dracs out the back. The realization hits Fun Ghoul like a building and he whips around to see.

 

“They’re gonna try and herd us!” He says, watching the group begin to space out, “You can’t let them catch up-” The Green Man pressed the gas even harder than he already was, “-They’re desperate and low on ammo, so they’ll try to get you to turn where they want you to!”

 

If possible, The Green Man pushed the gas farther and Fun Ghoul had to brace himself against the seat. The Cobra groaned from the back pressing his eyes and asking what was going on.

 

“Ghoul!” Horseshoe Crab grabbed his arm, “Sunroof!” He pointed up at the window and stood up on the seat, squeezing the latches to open it. Fun Ghoul grabbed his gun.

 

The first Drac went down easy, it was on a motorcycle, and Fun Ghoul was so impressed with his shot that for a moment he didn’t see the other Dracs behind it, breaking out their own guns.

 

The shots were weak and far off their marks, but they did their job in sending Horseshoe and Fun Ghoul back into their seats for cover. Whenever they went back out, the wind whipped their hair into the other’s eyes and mouth, they had to squint to see past the dust and sand, and the car was stuck in a perpetual twist to avoid dunes and rough patches.

 

Every once in awhile, Horseshoe would yell curses and hit a Drac in the chest, but his gun was getting low on charge, and Fun Ghoul admitted to himself he was much more skilled when it came to closer quarters.

 

A moment came when everything went a little gross feeling.

 

When Horseshoe Crab ducked back into the car saying: “I’m out!”

 

Fun Ghoul took the next moment to take his place. 

 

But the return fire came too quick to avoid and Ghoul spun the beams of light headed in his direction, he tripped off the seat and hit his forehead on the top of the car as the Range Rover made a hard turn to the left.

 

“Ghoul!” Someone yelled, and he felt something hot drip onto his eyebrow.

 

* * *

 

 

He woke up in an almost deadly silence.

 

Horseshoe Crab was the one who saw him open his eyes and promptly covered his mouth to stop him before he could say anything. There was a bandage on his forehead, hastily fastened and squeezing against the cut.

 

In the distance, there was a roaring sound that ate at Fun Ghoul’s ears.

 

It was dark, and the car had stopped.

 

All he could hear was Suarez’s labored breathing behind him.

 

The roaring was getting louder and louder, it almost hurt his ears.

 

Headlights.

 

Out the front windshield, for a second, The Green Man’s face reflecting the harsh light, he would dare to blink.

 

A parade of Better Living vehicle's past slowly, achingly slow, too scared to get closer, but they were looking. Hours upon hours seemed to pass before the full troupe meandered past. Then another eternity before Black Card let out a loud sigh of relief.

 

Fun Ghoul hadn’t realized, but he had been holding his breath.

 

It’s the water, isn’t it?” He asked, whispering, “That sound?”

 

“We ran out of gas,” Horseshoe Crab recounted, “You woke up a few times-” Fun Ghoul didn’t remember, “- and we had to stop, but we were ahead of them so they didn’t see, we put sand and dried grass over the car before it got dark.”

 

“There’s a neutral settlement, if we follow the water,” The Cobra pulled himself up to sit, he was still the loudest out of all of them, even if his voice was shaking and he was half-focused on blinking as rapidly as he thought possible. “We can get gas, first aid, help.”

 

Stepping out of the car was like something out of a dream or a nightmare.

 

The roar of the ocean was clear and unfaltering now, and it reflected the moon with an intensity that made Fun Ghoul near nauseous, and a half hour into their trundle towards salvation, he realized his own idiocy.

 

He actually liked these people.

 

_ “We have learned that the satisfaction of instincts cannot be the sole aim of our lives.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Alcoholics Anonymous _ _ ,  _ _ Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh Yes, I DID THAT


	14. Vessel

 

_ “Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Ransom Riggs _ _ ,  _ _ Hollow City _

 

The man covered in blood reminded Tyler of Maria.

 

Someone he’d rather forget.

 

He begged and pleaded and screamed and yelled until: “I follow the Sandman! I follow Him! It is only paint! It’s only paint!”

 

Silence, except for the the boy’s quiet pleading.

 

“Please…” He begged, quiet, his face shiny with tears, “Please.”

 

Lightning relaxed, making a show of putting his gun away that Tyler found himself appreciating.

 

“What are you doing here?” Lightning asked, slow and calculating, “Why are you covered in paint?”   
  


The boy shook his head, “Please-”

 

“He’s not gonna hurt you,” Secret Lover knelt down in front of him, “We’re not gonna hurt you… Can you tell us your name?”

 

“Christo,” Christo answered, still wide-eyed, “And-” His head flicked up to Lightning, “-It’s part of my Communion, the-the paint, so He can recognize me.”

 

“You mean the Sandman?” Lightning asked, confused, “What’s a Communion?”

 

“I was…” Christo swallowed, “I was buried in his church, to meet with Him, that was my Communion.”

 

Secret Lover looked up at Lightning, “Like The Rejects were talking about.”

 

Christo’s eyes widened again, “The Rejects?”

 

Tyler wrung his hands, looking around at the rest of the small house as the conversation continued. 

 

There was a lot of paper.

 

Spread out on the floor, bursting from file cabinets and piled in the corners of the room, browning and crinkled. 

 

He picked at the dirt underneath his fingernails.

 

The paper drew his attention far more than the talk of Rejects and the horrifying Sandman. Tyler drew more focus to the tan filing cabinets.

 

He had seen them before, less dented and clean, at the Resort.

 

He opened one.

 

The metal shook and the papers inside were crinkled and tightly packed together.

 

With the same header:

 

Green Grass.

 

“What do you think that means?” Josh is at his side and Tyler looks up in surprise.

 

“I don’t know,” His voice is hoarse and quiet.

 

Josh pulled the paper out to look, it was blacked over in places.

 

“Are you the Crash and Lightning from Hyper Thrust?” Christo was asking.

 

“Yeah, that’s us,” Crash nodded, “Why?”

 

“Tyler,” Josh touched Tyler’s arm, “It’s a company, Green Grass, I mean.”

 

Tyler looked back at the paper, at the faded, official looking logo of a swirling leaf, “I’ve never heard of Green Grass…” They both spoke quietly so the rest of the group wouldn’t hear.

 

“It must have existed,” Josh pointed to a date at the top of the paper, almost faded and scratched away, “I was seven that year.” He put the paper back, it was useless when its contents were blacked over.

 

“That Brightside Cult,” Christo spoke again, “Even without their leader-” Tyler saw Dahvie, with his ugly sharpened teeth, enter the room again, leaning against the door to listen, “-They’re organizing, sort of, fighting, killing, they’re looking for the people who destroyed them.”

 

Josh was pulling out paper after paper, Tyler didn’t understand why.

 

“There’s been a lot of stuff going on, I wasn’t above ground for long when it started, but it’s just…” Christo searched for the correct words. “It’s not something DJ Hot Chimp would ever report on, but Dr. Death is following it, nobody listens to him, not when he’s political, but he’s organic! The Cult and… and those Snake Worshippers down in Zone 1-”

 

“What do you mean?” Dr. Benzedrine asked, “They stick to themselves, what would those Brightside people want with them?”

 

“I don’t know!” Christo wrung his hands and pulled at his hair, “What does Brightside want with my people? I can’t contact anyone-”

 

“Tyler,” Josh again, “This is about that thing, with Mark, I think.”

 

Tyler turned again to see the files and papers, saying words like: Draculoidization, and: Scarecrow Process, AI Failure, Dead Subjects.

 

The rest was blackened.

 

But there were paragraphs, still legible, Tyler felt dizzy squinting at the small letters.

 

“What is this?” Josh whispered to himself, “Um… Benzedrine?” He called, but Christo was still talking, keeping the Doctor’s attention.

 

“Go to the next page?” Tyler asked and Josh nods.

 

“Some names,” Josh read with his finger under the words, “Something about a failure to construct-” He stopped, “Okay,” His voice had raised and he stopped, “Okay,” He repeated, quieter.

 

“What?” Tyler croaked.

 

“I… Mark showed me this, he made it seem like it was out of some sci-fi movie from before the Wars… Clones and Robots,” He flipped through more pages, Tyler had to hurry to read as much as he could.

 

“Everyone is moving,” Christo responded to another question, “There’s a neutral town, close to the water, it’s big, but my people don’t trust it-”

 

“Mark was wrong!” Josh exclaimed, loud enough for Dahvie to briefly glance over, “He was wrong, it’s… Tyler, it’s, it’s worse.”

 

Tyler took the paper from him.

 

It was burned at the bottom, but not lost entirely.

 

It said:  

 

_ Re-education on ___________ unsuccessful. _

 

_ ________imbs not responding. All attempt with individual_______ts in failure. Relocating to underground. Draculoidization_________. Rerouting to two individual________ this is ___________ Cadavers __________ along with Artificial programs, ____________ _

 

And finally:

 

_ The Retinal Resort. _

 

Those three words felt like a terrifying prophecy

 

The page was burnt black and crisp in his fingers.

 

Josh tentatively grabbed it back and stuffed it in a file, piling more and more paper in without a care. “We can’t read it all here,” He pointed back to the group.

 

Dahvie had shifted to the back, the look on his face was suddenly scorched into Tyler’s memory.

 

Dr. Benzedrine faced them.

 

“We have to head out, Christo talked about a neutral camp, we should be able to get to it today.”

 

“I was listening,” Tyler nodded and the doctor blinked in surprise.

 

“I’ll drive!” Lightning was heading out the door with Dahvie not far behind.

 

“I know the way.” He said, and Tyler looked away when his teeth flashed.

 

“Um, Benzedrine,” Josh stepped forward, “These files… a lot of them are about the Scarecrow, and about Dracs, most of it is burnt away or blacked out-”

 

“Bring it to the truck,” Benzedrine expression darkened. “Show me when we get to driving.”

 

Josh followed him out.

 

Tyler hesitated, Christo was sitting against the wall.

 

“Um…” Tyler approached.

 

Christo looked up, the painted red on his face brought back a stinging memory.

 

Marie.

 

I am not a dog.

 

On the wall in blood.

 

“Do you… do you know where these papers came from?”   
  
“No, sorry, I came here after… I found it after my Communion, I don’t know how to read.”

 

“Oh…” Tyler looked anywhere else but him, “What… What is a Communion?”   
  


Christo straightened, “It’s when we’re buried alive, in the Sandman’s Church, The Sandman meets with us, and we’re recognized by him as his followers.” His eyes were shining, and Tyler remembered.

 

The Sandman’s Church.

 

The Overlay.

 

The seemingly innocent miles and miles of desert where, supposedly, Tyler could imagine himself being swallowed under tons and tons of sand.

 

The voice under the sand, after the storm.

 

**_sleep forever, under the sand_ **

 

He left the building with the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

 

He sat in the bed of the truck with Josh, Secret Lover, and Dr. Benzedrine.

 

He stared down at his fingernails.

 

His hands were dirty and blistered.

 

Already?

 

He felt as if he had been away from the Resort for weeks, months. Away from Jenna, years.

 

The wind as sharp and pulled at his edges.

 

Benzedrine and Secret read the papers, the files, with an intensity he could feel. Josh took the ones they were done with and read with Tyler over his shoulder.

 

The words seemed to swim through the air.

 

Failure.

 

         Unresponsive.

 

                      Inconsistency.

 

                                        Subjects.

 

                                                        Deceased.

 

The Retinal Resort.

 

_ They did something to me _ , He remembers saying,  _ Something to make me… Not me. _

 

Everything looks red.

 

As if the sun is setting.

 

It wasn’t.

 

The truck.

 

Was-

 

It was moving, but.

 

No.

 

Josh is holding the papers.

 

Blacked out. Unreadable.

 

Tyler could see Lightning, Crash, and Dahvie. Just the backs of their heads.

 

No faces.

 

Secret Lover.

 

Her papers were blacked out. Unreadable.

 

Dr. Benzedrine.

 

He was… Standing…. His face was-

 

Who-

 

His eyes were molten gold.

 

The only thing that wasn’t red….

 

He, Tyler, who wasn’t him. Pulls him, who is himself, back by his hair.

 

_ “You’re taking too long.” _

 

He almost chokes, almost falling off the truck, he is standing…

 

He didn't remember getting up. 

 

“I don’t-”

 

_ “He doesn’t care.”  _ Not himself says, pointing to Josh. Not him looks different.

 

Not in a way that Tyler could see.

 

But Not Him was different.

 

Angry.

 

Not like the last time.

 

Not Him had been confused.

 

Now he was. 

 

Disgusted.

 

His face was still Tyler’s.

 

“He cares,” Tyler told Not Him.

 

_ “We have an obligation.” _

 

Yes.

 

Like Not Him had said the last time.

 

“I don’t care.”

 

_ “You have to.” _

 

Not Him grabbed at his hair, frustrated and his face contorted.

 

_ “You have to!” _

 

Tyler watched Not Him.

 

Breathing heavy.

 

Dr. Benzedrine and his melting golden eyes.

 

Not Him pointed again,  _ “It’s him.” _

 

Tyler took a step back.

 

_ “It has to be him first!” _ Not Him’s voice was shrill and-

 

Afraid.

 

_ “Destroy them! Like we’re- I’m- you’re- supposed to!” _

 

Not Him grabbed Tyler’s collar.

 

_ “Supposed to! Supposed to!” Over and over, “Supposed to! Supposed to supposed to supposed to-” _

 

He was bleeding. Not Him was bleeding everyone was red and dying and cold and-

 

His dream ended.

 

His body was-

 

Still his own.

 

The sun was setting.

 

Bathing the world in a warm orange that seemed to simplify everything.

 

There was someone in the distance.

 

“Tyler, you’re awake!” Josh was smiling.

 

This wasn’t a dream.

 

Benzedrine and Secret Lover were keeping an eye on the figure in dark clothes.

 

The truck was going over steady sand.

 

“Yeah…” Tyler nodded, “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine,” Josh sat against the side of the truck bed, “Nothing happened.”

 

The light was unearthly.

 

The sun wasn’t hot.

 

Just warm.

 

The truck slowed.

 

Behind the figure, a shadowed town of flapping tents and hastily put together housing, behind the town, the waterfront. A great blue mansion of terrors Tyler-

 

-remembered learning about in school.

 

Behind that?

 

The figure became a girl, all in black.

 

Her lipstick, how had she found lipstick? Shined in the sun.

 

She stopped the truck with a hand raised in greeting.

 

Or, Lightning had stopped the truck, “Evening!” She said, “How are you?”

 

“Tired!” Crash called from inside the truck, the rest of them grudgingly agreed.

 

She laughed, “I totally get it! I’m Normani, by the way, part of the Secret Police-”

 

“The defected Exterminators?” Secret Lover stood to see her, she towered over them in the bed of the truck.

 

“That’s right!” Normani nodded, smiling again, “Listen I know you’re tired, but, you want to get into Settlement Four, right?”

 

Lightning nodded, “Yeah.”

 

“There are some rules you gotta listen to okay?” Normani gave them a sympathetic look, “The Settlement wasn’t made by ‘joys for neutrals, alright? It was made by neutrals, for neutrals, mostly,” She smiled, “So listen, as long as you’re here, guns, knives, and all that has to be kept away as much as possible, they get the whole ‘necessity’ thing in there, so it won’t get taken away, just keep it away yourselves, okay?”

 

They agreed.

 

“Great!” Normani clapped, “Cars go that way-” She pointed, “-There’s a car park, then consider yourselves in!”

 

The group waved goodbye.

 

The orange wash was fading from the sky, but the feeling that it had wasn’t.

 

The truck was parked, Josh unloaded the papers, and Tyler had himself help.

 

“So, where do we find Celluloid?”

 

Secret Lover made her question sound terse, but she was in a good mood.

 

Strangely, Tyler was too.

 

The Settlement was set up like an old marketplace that stretched on forever, houses made of slats and canvas, tape and screws used together to hold everything together.

 

Supposed shops were not open.

 

The sun was setting anyway.

 

There were people.

 

Milling about, a loose crowd that had a purpose, everyone knew where they were, and where they were going.

 

Dahvie took the lead, “I haven’t been here in forever,” His voiced scratched against Tyler’s ears again, “But I know who to ask… Then you pay me.”

 

The person to ask was another one of the Secret Police, easily distinguished by her all black clothes and authoritative stare. “Dinah,” She introduced herself.

 

Secret Lover cleared her throat, “Do you know a woman called Celluloid-” Dinah shushed her.

 

“She doesn’t like that name, but yeah,” Dinah pointed the way.

 

Dahvie followed behind then, with Lightning.

 

_ He was useless _ , Tyler thought, except he hadn’t really. The words had formed at the edge of his brain, he hadn’t wanted them there. 

 

They passed a tent, under it, a collection of tables and people that Tyler could identify as Secret Police.

 

Dinah walked with quick forceful steps as Dr. Benzedrine, Secret Lover, and Lightning dogged her tracks. But behind, Crash walked with Tyler and Josh. Dahvie brushed past as if they weren’t even there.

 

Past the tent, he stopped and retraced.

 

“What?” Josh asked, “What’s up?”

 

“I saw…” Crash watched to make sure he wouldn’t lose sight of Dinah, “I saw someone…”

 

Tyler glanced at Josh and Josh glanced at Tyler.

 

They followed Crash.

 

He stood at the edge of the tent’s borders.

 

“I thought…” He seemed…

 

Tyler couldn’t find a word for the look on Crash’s face.

 

It disappeared.

 

“No way.”

 

Crash invited himself under the tent.

 

Josh, being someone much more forward than Tyler, stepped after him.

 

Tyler followed, jostled around by rowdy Secret Police.

 

A man with an orange coat was there, unaware of Crash, who stared at the man’s back with such an intensity it could have burned the coat off.

 

Crash blinked, removed his glasses, squeezed his eyes between his forefinger and thumb, and in the dying light, Tyler saw someone else.

 

Someone older.

 

Tyler blinked the image away.

 

“Aladdin?” Crash finally asked, his voice cracking.

 

The man turned, there were words halfway out of his mouth that didn’t reach their destination when he hugged Crash.

 

Josh tensed uncomfortable, but the man called Aladdin Sane was just as gracious, shaking his hand and Tyler’s with his eyes shining.

 

_ “You’re alive.” _ He told Crash, “I knew that you were alive and I… thank Destroya she hasn’t punished me so far as to take you away.”

 

_ “We’re alive,” _ Crash almost said at the same time, “I didn’t know if you were and… You have to see, I don’t always say but Destroya she-” He paused, “Destroya brought Patrick back.”

 

And behind them?

 

A man that was no Secret Police, his back hunched and his eyes wide, when he stood, his shoulders were angles leading to sharper edges. But he compressed, somehow, into something soft.

 

Lightning had followed them back.

 

Dr. Benzedrine and Secret Lover have found Celluloid Hero.

 

But Crash had found someone Tyler knew was more valuable.

 

Lightning acknowledged the man behind them.

 

A handshake, “Why are you here?” He asked the man made of edges, “I mean, why are you here and not at the Shithole?”

 

Crash hugged him too.

 

“Brobeck?” He was surprised.

 

“The Socialite.” The Socialite corrected.

 

“Josh,” Josh smiled, “And-”

 

“Tyler.” Tyler shook Aladdin’s hand.

 

They walked together, following Lightning and Aladdin.

 

Josh was comfortable in the in between.

 

Tyler walked with The Socialite, who was quiet and tense, he would squeeze his eyes shut and curl his fists.

 

And then, Celluloid Hero.

 

Who met them at the door with a barking laugh that finally made The Socialite smile.

 

The warm, sunset feeling stayed even when tears emptied onto Benzedrine face. Secret Lover was not a crier, and “There’s something I have to tell you, later, in private.” was whispered in between Benzedrine and Aladdin was said.

 

Tyler wondered if that sort of conversation was necessary at all tearful reunions, an ancient custom, passed down by the secretive men behind the Wars.

 

But then Joan, Celluloid Hero’s real name sat down on her lumpy couch.

 

Night had come.

 

It was time for a story.

 

Told through paper and old files.

 

Tyler wouldn’t like it.

 

He knew so from the moment he had seen: The Retinal Resort, almost scratched away on that old paper buried deep in the files in Josh’s arms.

 

_“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”_

_― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be my new favorite, I can already say with confidence.  
> This one though? In my top ten, I love writing chapters like this


	15. Reputation

 

_ “Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Søren Kierkegaard _

 

When Joan was twelve, she knew her place.

 

She had to be smart, in an easy way, complicated things created complicated emotions.

 

She had to make friends.

 

Easily, of course, personal space created personal emotions.

 

She had to keep clean, care for herself, and know where she was going.

 

She had to graduate, and she had to get into college (Parent approved and Better Living sponsored). So she did.

 

She finished near the top of her class and she knew her place. 

 

She had to make something of herself. She had to have a career.

 

Now, standing in front of the children of Zone 5, the victims of a massacre she couldn’t help but feel responsible for, she didn’t know her place.

 

They needed answers and the best answers she could give were sure to conjure more questions to the surface. She herself had holes in her memory, she was older now than she’d ever thought she’d be, and even if she wasn’t wasting away like those that had reached ninety… 

 

Things made less sense the farther you distanced yourself from them.

 

Joan supposes the paper in Doctor Benzedrine hands came from her old place, when she had lived in a dense wall of cacti and decided she wasn’t worth the effort.

 

And now here, in Settlement 4, among the Secret Police and neutrals, she decided she was worth a little.

 

The children of Zone 5 knew their place and were desperate to return to it.

 

The boys from the city were losing their place, maybe they would rebuild it.

 

Her friend, Stardust, had always known his place, and finally The Socialite.

 

His thin face was a puzzle piece from his mother’s, and a grim reminder of what she had lost.

 

The Socialite, who she knew without pause was Dallon Weekes the minute she had seen him, had places he had made for himself, and he would keep making them.

 

Joan Jett knew her place, but really, did anyone need a concrete cage holding them to somewhere?

 

Her easy-going smile fell from her face.

 

The last of the group was a boy, barely a man, who thought his place was the right one, he would die for his cage, and kill for it.

 

She couldn’t let him distract her.

 

“I was thirty-three,” She said, looking Dr. Benzedrine in the eye. “I worked for a company outside of Better Living Industries.”

 

“Green Grass.” Benzedrine said, she nodded.

 

“It was separate from Better Living, the only company that was like that back then.” Joan supposed it was gone now, or used as a front, “Unlike Better Living it only worked in Medical Research and Medications.” She thought for a second, trying to put together a coherent line in her head. 

 

The events leading up to the massacre spanned years, her story took months, and these children had hours. Dread and apprehension filled her stomach like it did before anything she knew she wouldn’t come out the same at the end.

 

“My project focused on death,” She continued, “How to get around it, more specifically, and the signals our brains sends out in its last moments, the ones that help us cheat death every once in awhile.”

 

“My supervisor, a man named McGraw, dedicated his life to the project, we all did, to understand death and life,” Joan thought fondly of her teammates, “It was almost philosophical, we worried if what we were doing was ethical, even when we worked on bodies donated by their families… We made progress on understanding signals after death… Then Better Living became interested.”

 

She had remembered their visit, men in white that interrupted her afternoon black coffee and forced her friend and coworker, Kasim, to lead them to McGraw, who always holed away in his office after lunch. He had the nasty habit of falling asleep after any sort of meal.

 

The men were followed by a woman in clean, starch-pressed white, she hadn’t had a wrinkle on her, no hair out of place save for the stylized chunk of hair that fell out of her severe hairstyle and over her face.

 

“He met with a woman called Perry,” Joan said, “She, I guess she might not now, but she was in charge of the Process for Draculoidization, creating them, making them more efficient…” Her crowd dared not speak a word. “She convinced McGraw to look in on our research, to almost partner up… I suppose I might have learned too late what she really wanted, but it was obvious from the beginning.”

 

Perry scoured over every file Green Grass had made on the subject, saving them to her own database and, if Joan had to guess, conducted her own forms of research.

 

“She only cared about the Draculoids, they were her life, her near children,” Joan looked around at her filing cabinets, one of them Perry’s own handwritten notes, her near sociopathic desires of wiping away and creating something new. “Because… you know Draculoids are re-educated rebels?”

 

The group nodded.

 

“That process… It took a long time, almost too long for even Perry to grow attached, she was impatient, and when she learned about what we were doing-” Secret Lover gasped quietly and Joan nodded at her.

 

“But-” Secret Lover blinked rapidly, “You said you were only researching… signals? After death? How could that ever-” She stopped abruptly.

 

“Better Living has no belief in limitations.” Stardust provided, finally understanding, “They don’t believe in gods or the morally right thing.”

 

“Especially not Perry,” Joan shook her head, “She wanted more Draculoids, and more ways, easier ways to make them.”

 

“So she used your research to… what?” Dr. Benzedrine asked, “Make Draculoids? From-” He blanched, “From bodies.”

 

“I can see her reasoning,” Joan told him, “Disgusting as it was, I understand her logic, creating an army of Draculoids that are only half alive to receive orders, they’re already dead, and people are always dying to create more.”

 

“Did you stop her?” Lightning asked.

 

“She had already taken control of our project before I realized I had to do something,” Joan told him, her face kept blank, “McGraw was under BLi’s influence, controlled by pills and work… I was fired from the project and it was given fully to Better Living.” She could see their hope beginning to wane.

 

“But… I didn’t stop there, obviously,” She almost smiled up at Stardust, “There were people, still are people in the city, willing to help.” She decided it was time if she was being given the chance, to give up her portion in a network of secrets to someone new.

 

“Your mother, Socialite.”

 

Socialite looked as if he had been hit, blinking in surprise, “My… Mom?” He held himself tight around.

 

“Well not her at first,” Joan shook her head, “First it was two boys, juvie halls, they carried messages throughout the city, I paid them to destroy a small office building, set it up in flames, they did, and destroyed a small bit of research, a part Perry could never get back.” She thought of that night in her apartment, looking out over the city and seeing the small orange pinprick of light.

 

She had thrown back some whiskey in celebration.

 

“I thought I was done… that’s where I met your mother, Dallon,” Her audience’s heads whipped around to look at him, “Leann.”

 

“I…” The Socialite stared down at the ground, screwing his face over and over again, “What did she do?”

 

“She asked me for help,” Joan hesitated, “I knew things Better Living didn’t want me to, she kept me safe, stopping Perry’s research wherever we could until-” She looked up at Stardust, “-The fire.”

 

“Perry started it?” He asked.

 

“No, but she ordered it, she was close to being laid off, she was erratic and stubborn, and she started something neither Leann or I knew about… Something that distorted my work into a shaky Artificial program, that, instead of bringing someone back it… I don’t know, I still don’t know.” She squeezed her palms together.

 

“So why a… Why a fire?” Crash spoke up, “Like you said it started on the Outskirts before the wall went up, why do something like that?”   
  
“She wanted to build something, underground, a facility or-”

 

“The Retinal Resort.”

 

The voice that came forward was shaking and tired, the one she had heard called Tyler. “Right?” He asked, “It’s part of the Retinal Resort?”

 

Joan recognized the name, a place of rehabilitation and health on the surface for celebrities and people looking for an escape, and under that, Joan didn’t like thinking of the terror and fear that BLi effortlessly created and hid from the public.

 

“It’s possible,” She said, “But I’ve never entered that place, the fire devastated everything… People lost their homes, their families… But it started something else.”

 

“The Scarecrow,” Stardust answered.

 

“The bones of the program, at least,” Joan nodded, “Perry lost most of the research because of Leann’s group and I-” She glanced up at The Socialite who could only stare down at the floor, “-But something was created from it’s remaining parts.”

 

“And then?” Dr. Benzedrine asked, “What happened?”

 

“I ran,” Joan said, “Leann… I don’t know where she is, but if her son is here…”

 

The Socialite shook his head, “I don’t-”

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to know,” Joan stopped him, “You were young, your world was breaking apart.”

 

“That’s… That’s seriously all you have?” Lightning asked, “I don’t care about your stupid life story! I care about ghosting the fuck outta this Scarecrow-!”

 

“And what?” Joan shot back, “This is what I know, I told you my business, the only way this,  _ any _ of this, is gonna pan out is if you take it and use it!”

 

Stardust frowned, “You’re suggesting-”

 

“I had my family killed!” Lightning curled his fists, “And you spit static about Draculoids and arson?!”

 

Joan jabbed a finger at him, “You asked for-”

 

“Lightning! Come on-!” Crash grabbed his shoulder.

 

The yelling overpowered his attempts to stop a fight, tensions breaking fast and with little restraint-  _ “This shit former pig! She-” “This is the best-” “We came from Zone-” “It’s not helping us to-” “His mom-” “There’s nothing-” “You asked for this!” “The City-!” _

 

The Socialite covered his ears and Joan felt pressure in her head as she screamed,  _ “Get out! Get out! Get-!” _ Dr. Benzedrine grabbed Lightning by his shoulders and Joan wished she could have seen what happened in slow motion.

 

_ “Shut up!” _

 

Lightning fell silent.

 

Stardust stood still, his mouth agape.

 

Dahvie was leaning against the wall, smiling.

 

A light had come on, for just a flash, golden and filled with fire.

 

And it was gone.

 

Outside, there was an even bigger flash of light, running, yelling in fear, Joan pushed past the crowd to step outside.

 

“No-” At the end of the street, a battle of ray guns had started, a van, rusted over and covered in spikes, had crashed into a building made of patchwork wood and mud. A member of the Secret Police charged past and she grabbed them by the arm. “Normani!” She exclaimed, “Four one one!”

 

“We stopped a few people at the edge!” She said, sweating, “Injured, from a Drac Camp! Then-” She averted her gaze to watch the chaos, Dr. Benzedrine and his group filtered outside to look and listen. “Then these- these people drove past, not the same, a different group, Kudi’s dead-”

 

“You said there were injured?” Joan stopped her.

 

“Yes- I don’t know how-”

 

“I can help you with that!” Dr. Benzedrine came forward, “Lightning, Secret, Crash, help with the fight-” He halted, “Do you know who they are? The people attacking?”

 

Normani tried to slow her breathing, “I recognized the cars, it’s that cult, and those Snakes from the West-”

 

“Christo said they were fighting.” Secret Lover said, almost yelling over the sound of the Clap.

 

Joan nodded, “Normani, take Benzedrine-” She nodded and led Dr. Benzedrine away, “-You three can join the Secret Police, Stardust, Socialite, join me.” She hurried away before checking if they were following. Something itched at the back of her mind, something she was forgetting.

 

“Joan!” Stardust shouted, taking out his bright green ray gun and aiming it behind them, Socialite ran frantically behind, “The Snakes always have a leader!”

 

“I know that!” Joan yelled back, “It’s not like I can seek him out myself-” She grabbed the arm of another Police member, “-Michael! Where’s Gerald?”

 

Michael was a man of few words, and he pointed to the black tent where the Police usually gathered, “Giving orders.” He started away immediately. 

 

The tent was swarming with men and women dressed in leather and Joan pushed past, tugging Socialite and Stardust along inside. “Gerald! G!”

 

“Right here!” The Secret Police let her through into a circle of sweaty humans, breathing hard through gritted teeth, “Joan!” Gerald said, “It’s that cult, we’ve been on the lookout for them since their leader was taken but the others-”

 

“Snake Worshippers,” Joan interrupted, “Normani told me.” a ripple went up in the group, swearing and murmuring under their breaths about cults and the zones.

 

“Shit… this makes it a bit easier, Snakes don’t move without someone steering the damn ship anyway, Sean, lead a group around the perimeter and find their leader-” Sean and him bumped fists and led a group of five out of the tent, “-The cult needs to be rounded up, they’re causing the most damage, the rest of separate into packs and drive them out past the border…” He looked up at Joan, asking for something to add.

 

Joan sighed, “G is tactful, like always… Just… Remember, they aren’t here for Settlement Four-” A large  _ boom! _ shook the ground and she continued, “they’re here for each other, for whatever reason they’re at each other’s throats, not ours… Good luck.”

 

Almost the second she clapped her hands together the group was gone, out the tent and sprinting into their assigned roles. Gerald stopped before leaving, “We got a car full of people in before this started, injured, one shot in the chest-”

 

“Normani told me,” Joan said, “I sent a Sawbones towards the infirmary to help the others.” Gerald nodded and was gone.

 

“Joan-” Stardust took her hand and she pulled away.

 

“I know, I know, let me think, this shit doesn’t happen every single day!” She caught eyes with Socialite and sat down at one of the many wooden benches. “I’m sorry, if that can help you at all, I basically jumped you back there, telling you about Leann, and all.”

 

“No,” Socialite sat down across from her and Stardust took watch outside the tent flaps, “It’s… fine, I guess.”

 

“Leann was one of my best friends, you know, besides Irena, but…” Joan’s memory of Irena Harris was cloudy, but she had been a maid serving in Leann's house, a mansion of sort, and had been a source of light for Leann, a signal in static. “Irena was different I suppose.”

 

“My mom loved Irena,” Socialite said, his voice low. 

 

_ “Loves,” _ Joan insisted, “I have no doubt that Leann is alive, still leading that rebellion in the city.”

 

“Would…” Socialite tilted his head, “Would she be able to help my friends?”

 

“Without a doubt, she’d do anything for you and-” The itch at the back of her mind finally revealed itself and she shot to her feet, “Leann!” Socialite stood with her. “Stay here!” She told him, “Stardust! The files!” She had pushed past him but he was following close, “I thought about it when he first showed up but-”

 

“Who!” He asked, “Socialite?”   
  


“No!” Joan almost screamed, “The guide, I knew him from the cult, it was his teeth he-” She burst into her house breathing heavy, the paper and filing cabinets were fine. Her house was fine.

 

Stardust sucked in a breath, “Joan I don’t know-”

 

“He was here, I didn’t see him come out but I knew him, I should have known, he’s why the cult is here anyway-”

 

“The guide? Dahvie?”

 

_ “Yes!” _ Joan faced him, desperate,  _ “He’s from Brightside! I know him from when their leader- he-” _

 

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” A ray gun was clicked into position from the door and Joan and Stardust swung around to face Dahvie Vanity. “I sat through your bullshit lies already-”

 

“Really Dahvie?” Joan asked, sarcastically, “Is this going to be your last stand? Settlement Four, while the rest of your group tears themselves to pieces over Snakes?”

 

“How did you recognize me?”   
  


“The teeth played a role,” Joan tilted her head, “I suppose, but it took me a minute, you never left that man’s side even when he beat the shit outta you!”

 

Dahvie squeezed the ray gun, “He cared about me, bitch!”

 

“Now-” Stardust started.

 

“Shut up Sand-Eater,” Dahvie used an insult to Destroya, and Stardust said nothing. “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you both.”

 

“So you want to destroy this?” Joan indicated the paper surrounding them. “You took the bodies of their family, and almost used them to summon a fake-”

 

“He’s not!” Dahvie practically screamed, the clap outside seemed distant.

 

“Mr. Brightside is a fairy tale Dahvie,” Stardust said, “That man, your leader, is gone, taken by Better Living, you can destroy something, or you can go on with your life and recover from what he did.”

 

“He was my father!” Dahvie squeezed the trigger and shot a blast at the wall behind them, Joan flinched, “They killed him! It doesn’t matter what BLi does to him, he’s dead!”

 

“That man was no one’s father-” Stardust began, and was interrupted by the cloth in front of the door being pushed aside.

 

“Miss Jett I-” A member of the Secret Police named Mac, stopped with his hand near his gun on his hip.

 

“You take it out, I’ll dust ‘em.”

 

Dahvie’s jaw was set and Mac looked to Joan.

 

“Mac, you remember the group he came with?”

 

Mac nodded, “Lightning and Crash and-” Joan nodded furiously and thanked whoever might have been listening that he understood as he fled the house.

 

“Tell me, Dahvie,” Stardust kept the look of calm on his face with ease, “What do you hope to accomplish? Destroying years of research on a subject that isn’t even practiced anymore? Do you want to keep them, Benzedrine and Secret Lover and all the rest of them, from finding the Scarecrow? Why should you care?”

 

“They destroyed my family!” Dahvie shook his gun at them and Stardust raised his palms.

 

“Your family is a collection of lies perpetrated by a fool who thinks he can speak to a long-dead killjoy.” 

 

Dahvie blinked hard, “Everything I’ve done was for those lies.”

 

Joan felt as if she had been thrown from her own body as Dahvie pulled the trigger. Aiming for Stardust.

 

* * *

 

 

Dahvie was in so much shock that Joan could tackle him to the ground with little effort and Lightning, who practically sprinted to her aid to take Dahvie around the arms. 

 

The Snakes and cult had fled.

 

“No!” Secret Lover screamed, “No, no, no!”

 

“Benzie was right.” Lightning dodged a wayward punch by Dahvie and was joined by Mac. Joan stopped him.

 

“Get Boy Friday from the infirmary, he’s our only Sawbones besides their Dr. Benzedrine.”  Mac nodded and shot off again.

 

Dahvie began to yell incoherent at the sky and Lightning wrestled him to a facedown position. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Secret Lover stayed near Stardust, still in shock as she listened to his rapid breathing. He was in shock and couldn’t speak.

 

Boy Friday was tall and thin with a boyish face, but he could put up a professional facade as easy as tying up his boots. “I have now,  _ seventeen _ , ray gun injuries in a day, and those are just the severe ones-” He grunted and nearly pushed Secret Lover away, “I need space, moving him could be fatal-”

 

“No!” Secret Lover yelled, “He can’t! He-”

 

“Yes!” Boy Friday, “I know! He can’t just die, so let me prevent it from happening as best I can, while you get out!”

 

Lightning had dragged Dahvie from the house already, along with Mac. Joan grabbed Secret Lover by the arm, “Come on, let’s go.” And she turned her sights on getting to the infirmary.

 

_ “Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.”  _

_ ―  Marie Curie _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember Leann. And also when I say she loved Irena, I mean in the gayest way possible. Hope you liked it!


	16. Young

 

_ “So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep happiness.”  _

_ ―  _ _ F. Scott Fitzgerald _ _ ,  _ _ All the Sad Young Men _

 

“He’s out there-” “-How can you-” “-Look out the window-” “-It’s the sun? ‘Cause it-” “Gets low like that-” “-They bring the food when it’s-” “-As high as your finger on the sill-” “-So then you hear the footsteps-”

 

Their back and forth gave Andy a headache.

 

They were crouched on the rickety wooden stairs, looking through the needle width crack in the trapdoor, at the shadows of feet that passed by. Their fast and easily traded speech pattern came to the surface when they were nervous, scared, excited, or any time they felt.

 

Andy was left out.

 

The numbness in his fingers and brain had all but disappeared completely, and JackandAlex were there to watch the whole thing in agonizing detail.

 

When he had first been shoved down into the basement prison, they had stared at him.

 

Watching him shake and empty his stomach of the last bits of dust it held.

 

They were always close to each other, always touching, never alone.

 

JackandAlex were one person, too sick to realize they were separate. 

 

Andy had gone through the last days of his withdrawal with their help and had spent the rest listening to their twisted and complicated escape plans.

 

His hands still shook, he still had nightmares.

 

The worst being the melting face of a woman screaming and burning his hands off. Jon watched from a distance.

 

He was always covered in blood.

 

And Pete.

 

Pete was always behind him, grabbing for his shoulder,  _ “It’s okay, Andy,” _ and his smile would fill with pointed teeth and his eyes would spill black tears that splattered on Andy’s skin and burn holes all the way through his arms. 

 

JackandAlex had dreams of their own.

 

Ones filled with screaming and crying and begging for the other.

 

The three of them never spoke about it.

 

Their captors fed them twice a day. Once in the morning, and once after the sun, as JackandAlex said when the sun could be judged by the length of your finger. But even that was unreliable.

 

Snake Worshippers had no real reliance on time besides where they should be when the sun rose or when it set. When it set, Andy and JackandAlex would be dragged out of their hole and a new scale would be put into the snake on their skin.

 

JackandAlex had more scales than Andy, but their hatred for the ink was equal.

 

It was a shackle they couldn’t unlock or scrub away with the cloudy water that was given to them in a bucket every few days, along with a few torn and dirty rags.

 

To Andy, the snake was almost real.

 

It hissed secrets to him in fevered dreams and threatened to eat his heart bit by bit until there was nothing left. 

 

“You think-” “-It’s the same guy he-” “Yeah, wears the red-” “Doesn’t give a shit, he spits-” “-In our food-” “Wants us gone-” “Wants us dead-” “-Wants the sacrifice-”

 

“Stop!” Andy’s ears had begun to ring and JackandAlex’s heads swung back to look at him. “Just, stop, please.” JackandAlex moved away from the door, watching him with wide-eyes.

 

“Do you think they’ll add another tonight?” Jack touched his snake tattoo. Alex watched his hand.

 

“They didn’t yesterday?” Alex tilted his head, “They’re forgetting about us? Maybe?”

 

They could only hope, it would make escape easier, “I don’t know, they still give us food,” Andy mumbled, picking at his fingernails, “But… There was the screaming.” The screaming, an event that blended several days together, happened the first night Andy had had a dreamless sleep. The Snake Worshippers above ground had been attacked by someone or something.

 

Andy hoped beyond hope it had been Pete with a rescue party.

 

He would blast open the trapdoor and lead Andy out into the desert, at that time, he had hoped for more pills, and Dr. Benzedrine would have them.

 

He still hoped for more pills, he didn’t want to, but their taste was always looming at the back of his throat.

 

An empty comfort.

 

Their food was always the same.

 

Dog food, or a potato, if they were lucky, they would be cooked and mixed together. Tonight, it was simply dog food, the smiling BLi logo mocked Andy. Its empty eyes made him shiver.

 

He hadn’t grown used to the taste, but JackandAlex were always ravenous, eating fast and asking for more. Andy gave them his own can after half of it was eaten.

 

Whenever the food was delivered, the stairs would shake and let loose a shower of dust and sand that piled in a warm corner of the shadowy basement. This is where they would sleep, or where Andy used to sleep.

 

His dreams were somehow worse when he slept on the soft sand, filled with pale skin and choking breath and a hand that clamped itself over his mouth and muffled his screams-

 

Andy fell asleep by the empty shelves, away from the stairs and the sand.

 

His nightmare began the same.

 

Milwaukee.

 

The sky was blue and the backyard went on forever.

 

Andy and Jon sat at a table with a checkered cloth.

 

“I was talking to your father-” His mother sat beside him, she had no face and never spoke sense, “He told me you two had planned? I was talking to your father, he was wondering about your grade in- He spoke to the- She was wondering about- plans? I was hoping to touch base on-? Did you forget? Did you forget Andy? Andrew? Andrew?” Andy stared up at her, paralyzed and stuck to his chair as her mouth filled with blood and spilled into her coffee,  _ “Did you forget?” _

 

“No,” He shook his head, “No, stop-”

 

Jon was gone, replaced by Dr. Benzedrine and his glowing yellow eyes, “It’s not too late,” He said, he  _ always _ said, “It’s not too late, it’s never too late.”

 

Andy fell backward, scrambling to get away as the ground melted into mud and clay and grainy sand that stuck to his hands and pulled him down 

Down

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Down-

 

“Forget them, Mr. Hurley,” The smooth voice said, shoving pale, nimble fingers down his throat, “Forget them, Mr. Hurley, forget them for-get them fo-rge-t the-m-”

 

He was in a hallway.

 

His apartment building.

 

His steps were slow and shaking, settling each foot firmly on the carpet as he made his way down the hallway. His room.

 

The door rattled on its hinges.

 

He screamed at himself to turn away. He opened the door.

 

He was back in the desert.

 

His feet sunk into the sand with every step.

 

There was a pounding, aching, pain in his head. A crushing, throbbing, repetitive movement behind his eyes that made his ears ring and his hands shake,  _ rat rat rat rat- _

 

He collapsed when it became too much-  _ RAT RAT RAT RAT- _

The beat dissolved into something more, furious and angry and violently sad-

 

It was himself.

 

In front of him, where he lay, seizing from the noise, was another him.

 

He sat, deathly calm as his arms moved about him like a thunderstorm and with every crash of thunder and pulse of lightning there was a hit to accompany it on the set of beaten and dirty drums in front of him.

 

Trails of sand traced it’s way up his doubles legs, up his arms and eating away at the image, distorting the sound and tearing him apart, “No,” Andy choked, for once there was no pain, “Please-”

 

His doubles face collapsed inward like a hole in the ground, and crawling its way upward through it were dark clawed hands. Shadows exploded across the sand and bathed Andy in cold and wet.

 

**_Andrew_ **

 

_ “No,”  _ Andy gasped, the ache in his head had begun again, ten times worse, he struggled to straighten himself and kneeled before The Sandman, _ “Please- I don’t-” _ He grabbed the edges of The Sandman’s boundless cape and pulled. The Sandman almost seemed shaken and gave a tiny step forward to correct his balance. “You-”

 

**_you could stop this hurt_ **

 

Andy opened his eyes to the basement.

 

When he blinked away the sleep he found a trail of sand, leading from under the stairs to where he had slept.

 

He shivered.

 

JackandAlex gave him breakfast, which he hadn’t been given because he was asleep, “You were shaking-” “-We didn’t know-” “Was it bad? We could-” “-Should have woken you-” “I have bad dreams too-” “Always the same-”

 

He listened to them tell him about the dream they had, too sick to realize they were separate.

 

* * *

 

 

Andy wished he knew where Disashi was, or if he had ever returned, if he ever thought about what he was doing, if he ever felt sorry for Andy or JackandAlex.

 

If he ever felt sorry for himself.

 

Andy realized he wished he knew a lot of things.

 

He wished he knew why he needed the pills so badly, even now after his withdrawal had run its course. He wished he knew why he couldn’t sleep without The Sandman invading his dreams like a virus.

 

He wished he knew why an ache would settle on his chest, making it hard to breathe, and why it dragged him down so far he wished he could close his eyes and never wake up.

 

He wished he knew why he wanted to die so badly, or why he wanted to stay breathing in spite of it.

 

This was who he was, he finally figured it out, before the pills, this is what he had become a rat for.

 

Andy found it was easier to think when you’re alone in a basement with only two other people and nothing else.

 

Easier, because thoughts could come faster, but harder still because he had nothing to stop them.

 

JackandAlex had their own share of heartbreaks, reasons to quit, and long lists of reasons they were okay with leaving everything behind. Except, Andy wondered if one of them were to leave, how would the other survive?

 

JackandAlex was one person, too sick to realize they were separate, and Andy knew if one were to go, the other would be lost and too in shock to do anything about it.

 

One night, he remembers them clinging so close together, that in Andy’s eyes they had finally melted together, his dreams had crossed into the waking world and JackandAlex had been victim to it.

 

When he had woken up, they had been shaking him, holding their hands tight and pressing their shoulders together.

 

His dreams hadn’t gotten better after that.

 

When night fell again, they were finally let out of the basement to receive more scales.

 

The moon was blurry and the stars were small, but Andy couldn’t stop staring at them.

 

It was much better than looking through a dirty window through iron bars.

 

“It’s almost time,” The old woman told him, “Almost time for the Snake to swallow you.”

 

They were running out of time, Andy thought apathetically.

 

_ “It’s not too late,” _ Dr. Benzedrine always said,  _ “It’s never too late.” _

 

His dream began like this.

 

He was in the basement, it was dark and cold, and all the same, as it was when he was awake.

 

But he was alone.

 

He was standing, looking up the stairs at the trapdoor.

 

It was always locked, but now, he thought, it will open for me.

 

He took the stairs slowly, and a green light shone through the cracks in the door.

 

_ It won’t open. _

 

Andy pushed it open.

 

Milwaukee.

 

This time, Pete was there. He was in a lawn chair, sitting back with his feet spread and his head back, relaxed. He looked up when Andy crawled out onto the soft green grass of his endless backyard. “Hey,” He smiled pleasantly, “What’s goin’ on?”

 

Andy looked up at the clear blue sky above him, then looked back down at Pete, “I don’t know.”

 

Pete shrugged, “That’s okay, man, sometimes you just don’t know.”

 

A raven cawed.

 

And Dr. Benzedrine was in the chair, “Why not sit?” There was another chair. Andy sat. “Do you know how much time there is?”

 

Andy blinked, “For what?”

 

“Everything,” Dr. Benzedrine shrugged, “There is a lot.”

 

“I guess.” Andy looked down at his hands, blurry pictures and letters covered his skin, shifting and changing with every breath he made. “Why?” He looked back up and Dr. Benzedrine was gone.

 

Horseshoe Crab stood in front of him. “I’m trying to find this address.” He said and handed Andy a letter.

 

Andy took it, the address was an incomprehensible string of symbols, “I don’t-”

 

**_no, you don’t_ **

 

Andy opened his eyes to see the sun.

 

He felt it’s warmth and for a moment he returned to his dream. Sitting in the grass with Pete, Dr. Benzedrine, and Horseshoe Crab.

 

The door was open, and then, it shut. He missed it. “Eat up,” A Snake Worshipper kicked a meal of dog food and potato at him, “There’s something you need to see.”

 

Andy stared at him with wide eyes and ate, JackandAlex did the same from across the room. They didn’t finish fast enough and the man grew impatient, “Get up.” He said, “Get up!” He grabbed Andy by his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, his food clattered to the ground and Andy watched it roll and bounce on the dirty floor.

 

His captor pushed him to the stairs and for a moment Andy was struck with a thought of, _ they’re letting me go. _ Then the door was opened and he was passed onto another Worshipper who put him into a headlock as another bound his hands. 

 

They would never let him go.

 

With the snake on his chest, he would never be free.

 

He tasted the pills in his mouth. Like iron, like wine, like blood.

 

JackandAlex were pushed up, blinking in the sun. They were pale and thin and unused to its light.

 

All three of them were lead out. To meet the old woman.

 

She smiled with yellow teeth and pointed to the South, where dark clouds had formed, malicious and cruel and black. “The Earth-Eater comes,” She gripped Andy’s arm, digging her nails into his skin, “The Earth-Eater comes, and he will swallow you.” She was excited, shaking Andy hard, “You will save us, and then we will begin again.”

 

The clouds churned and Andy shook, his mind tricking him and making him see faces and claws in the sky. Horrifying expressions and the bloody faces of his friends, and The Sandman, his ugly black eyes and animal-like teeth twisted into being and he had to look away.

 

The snake on his chest was completed, the scales drawn on one by one.

 

Andy refused to cry.

 

He would escape.

 

He would find Pete and Dr. Benzedrine and Horseshoe Crab.

 

And he would get The Sandman out of his head.

 

JackandAlex screamed when they were apart, Andy couldn’t see them, but they yelled in his ears from their faraway places.

 

When they were put back in the basement, they became one person again, too sick to understand they were separate.

 

“We’re gonna get out of here,” Andy told them, and they listened in awe, “We have to.”

 

“How? We can’t-” “-The door-” “-Locked, we can’t-” “We have to fight-”

 

“I can-” Andy stopped them, “I can fight,” He mumbled to the floor, “I’m… I can fight.” He looked down at his fists, where faded bruises and healed cuts from days ago had stayed. He remembered his fight with Pete in the alley, his fight with Johnny, the fight he dreamed of, and Disashi. “I’m stronger than them… A better fighter.”

 

* * *

 

 

He dreamed again.

 

But it was different.

 

There was no Milwaukee.

 

There was the desert.

 

Soft sand, he was almost sinking into it with every step.

 

**_you will not succeed_ **

 

The Sandman pulled on his ankles from beneath the sand, and Andy kicked and pulled away,  _ “Stop! _ ” He fell forward onto his chest,  _ “Stop!” _

 

**_i do not lie_ **

 

The Sandman’s voice rasped from the sand itself, echoing from everywhere at once as he pulled himself up through the sand. His claws reaching up and digging into the ground and pulling at Andy’s ankle. His teeth shined in the sun, his usual mirthless smile was replaced by a struggling grimace. His hair, which seemed to defy gravity, was now matted and tangled as he pulled Andy down.

 

**_try try try_ **

 

His endless cape covered the landscape, bathing Andy in cold and hot all at once.  _ “Why-?!” _  The Sandman from his withdrawal fueled hallucinations were gone, and in his place was an angry god of terror and insanity.

 

And then he was gone.

 

Andy was alone with the sand.

 

**_without a clear path, there is no hope_ **

 

Andy scrambled to his feet. “You- Why?! After my-” He almost couldn’t say it, “You… _ cured _ me-”

 

**_i did_ **

 

The Sandman reappeared, close, like a shadow to whisper in his ear.

 

**_survive_ **

 

He was gone again, all around Andy, becoming the sand and the sky and the biting wind.

 

He was unstable.

 

Something was happening, something that was tearing The Sandman in two.

 

**_there is no time_ **

 

Andy fell to his knees, the building pressure in his head pushing him down, “There’s always time-” A scream whistled through the air before he could finish.

 

**_SHE LIES_ **

 

Andy clutched his head in pain.

 

**_I WILL NOT FAIL_ **

 

**_SHE LIES_ **

 

**_SHE LIES_ **

 

**_SHE LIES_ **

 

**_I WILL TAKE WHAT IS MINE_ **

 

**_SHE LIES_ **

 

**_SHE LIES-_ **

 

Andy was forced awake, choking on his own spit and writhing on the cold floor of the basement, “Andy!” JackandAlex yelled, “Andy! Wake up!” 

 

Andy hacked and coughed, breathing hard and clutching his stomach in pain. JackandAlex looked down at him, worry traced across their faces. “You were…” Alex looked at Jack, for once, they were unable to form the right words.

 

For a moment, they were separate.

 

Jack looked down at him, “You were yelling but…” He picked at his fingernails subconsciously, “Different.”

 

Andy blinked and they were together again.

 

He took a few days to sort himself, and JackandAlex out.

 

He needed to stop living in his dreams, it no longer mattered that the woman in white would choke him, or that The Sandman screamed at him in his sleep.

 

He had a purpose, a mission to serve.

 

Survive.

 

Escape.

 

He paid attention, and he noticed things.

 

The basement had a leaking roof. It never rained, but groundwater would drip through hairline cracks in the mud.

 

The trapdoor was rotting.

 

And most important.

 

The man delivering their food forgot to lock that same door.

 

Andy had been so stupid.

 

They didn’t care, not about him, or JackandAlex.

 

Andy was an addict, JackandAlex were ill, they would never have known.

 

But Andy had a purpose now.

 

What was broken, would stay broken, but at least they would be free.

 

He would watch out the window for hours, watching every move the Snake Worshippers made, consistent and unchanging from sunrise to when the moon was just past his finger on the sill. JackandAlex listened to his observations without a word, only blinking and nodding.

 

They would be free, and Andy would help them.

 

They would be free, and Andy would help himself.

 

“Listen,” Jack said one night, close to the door, Alex was a few steps below him and the held each other’s hands tight. “They left.” Andy nodded and looked out the small window to reassess the map in his brain.

 

They would run out, past the fire pits and through the dunes to the lot Andy remembered Disashi had pulled him from the car.

 

There had to be other vehicles, stolen BLi tricks that could be started with a button, the locks cut out by smugglers for easy access.

 

Andy didn’t want to imagine what would happen if there weren’t any.

 

“Get behind me.” He told JackandAlex, and they stepped down the stairs slowly and apprehensive.

 

Andy put his hand to the cold rotting wood.

 

It will open.

 

It would have to.

 

He glanced back at JackandAlex, who, while shaking, were excited, sticking close to the other as possible.

 

There would be people out there. Guarding the basement.

 

Andy would stop them before they could expose his plan.

 

He could do it, he was strong.

 

He was a better fighter.

 

He pushed upward fast and light, jumping to the surface and raising his fists. The first guard gasped and came close to shouting before hitting the floor fast and bloody. The second guard with the snake tattooed on his forehead was stronger and almost caught Andy in a chokehold before getting a fist in his mouth. JackandAlex pulled him back by his shoulders and stuffed rags from the basement in his mouth as he lost consciousness.

 

Then they sprinted, past firepits and tents and mud and shackled homes.

 

Closer closer closer loomed the safety of the dunes and the car lot-

 

JackandAlex moved in unison, holding tight behind Andy until they both gave a shout of surprise, tripping and almost getting pulled apart when a Worshipper tackled them. Andy whipped back around and pulled the man off, grabbing for JackandAlex.

 

Alex’s face was bloody and Jack’s was bruised.

 

They were dazed and pulled themselves up the camp began to wake up.

 

“To the lot!” Andy rasped, “Let’s go, let’s go!”

 

The sand sunk under them with each step, dragging their ankles and making them slow. The dunes pushed them back as the Worshippers surrounded them, screeching and seemingly clawing at their backs.

 

They reached the top of the dune, the car lot was lit up under the stars, the rusted cars reflecting the moon. Andy felt sweat sliding down his back and he almost smiled-

 

“Andy!” Alex was pulled back and Andy immediately grabbed his desperate hands-

 

Jack was gone.

 

Jack was-

 

Alex screamed when he noticed, curling away from Andy’s clinging hands and almost writhing in panic.

 

The crowd of Worshippers had stopped, looking up at Andy as he tried to stand on the loose sand.

 

Jack was held aloft, unconscious and bloodied and Alex tore at his hair and fell at the Snake’s feet. They grabbed him and kicked him as he cried and they climbed up the dune after Andy.

 

He kicked and sent tired punches that made his knuckles tingle and his blood pump fast, they went down fast, falling down the dune and onto their friends one after the next after the next after the next-

 

The car lot.

 

He could run, he could leave, he could be free-

 

Alex screamed and it echoed like a gong in Andy’s ears.

 

His breathing was heavy and sweat poured into his eyes, his fists were shaking as he held them up.

 

Figures were blurry, he couldn’t see.

 

Alex’s screams ripped from his throat and he seized, violently, on the ground. He acted as if he couldn’t breathe, like his eyes had been taken from their sockets, like he was being crushed.

 

He was sick, Andy lowered his fists.

 

He was two people, to ill to realize he was one.

 

And Andy couldn’t leave him to die.

 

He fell to his knees and the Worshipper’s laughed and praised the Earth-Eater.

 

They dragged him back to the basement through the sand.

 

He watched Alex and Jack.

 

He watched them become JackandAlex again.

 

They were one person, too sick to understand they were two.

 

And Andy was sick, too stupid to realize he couldn’t do this alone.

 

__ _ “I scream for everything that has gone wrong. I scream for everything broken in our lives.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Marie Lu _ _ ,  _ _ Champion _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does JackandAlex make sense?
> 
> Also!!!!!!!!!!! i recently posted the second part of my other series Le Velo Pour Duex! It's called 'So Let's All Pretend (That We are Undead)' and I would love it if you checked it out and read it!!


	17. and Menace

 

_ “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Gautama Buddha _

 

Patrick met Boy Friday in a haze of dust and blood, he worked fast and efficient, ordering around Secret Police and patching wounds like it was breathing. When he saw Patrick he pointed, “Sawbones, like me.” He gestured to a small patch of people on the ground on mats. They were groaning in pain and breathing heavy, “Start there, put a cross on, then people will find you easy if they need you.”

 

_ A Cross _ meant a face mask that looped around his ears and covered his mouth and nose, on the front it had a brightly colored cross that shined in the light. Patrick put it on quickly and watched Boy Friday pull one up from around his neck and yell,  _ “Get going!” _

 

Patrick was handed a bag of supplies by a Secret Police as he entered his section, Normani had disappeared back out into the fold and was nowhere to be seen.

 

“I’m Zac.” The Police said, “Tell me what you need.” Patrick had never heard anyone ever ask him that before and he faltered,  _ I need help, _ he wanted to say,  _ I need answers and I need sleep _ .

 

“I need to do the worst of the injuries first,” He said, “Can you handle bandaging the smaller ones?” Zac nodded, confident but shaken and Patrick handed him bandages and a water bottle, “Clean it first, then wrap it, check for head and chest injuries first,” Patrick found he fit easily into his task, his words came easy and his movements were light and comfortable, “Look for breaks, check for concussions, do you know-?”

 

“I do,” Zac nodded sharply and hurried on his way, Patrick mirrored him and found his way to a bloodied and seizing man on the ground.

 

He was coherent and panicking, the blood soaking through his shirt making him shake. “Oh Witch,  _ oh god _ , Doc, you gotta-” He grasped at Patrick’s shirt, “Shit, I can’t-you gotta help me-”

 

“I am, I am!” Patrick grabbed his shaking hands and watched him spit blood, “You need to breathe, okay? You need to breathe.” The man took shaking breaths, still panicking as Patrick carefully pulled off his patched leather jacket and ripped his shirt open.

 

“I was- I was at the entrance, they-they pulled through and-” The man’s chest was a mess of blood and burns and he winced in pain when Patrick poured water over it,  _ “Oh god-” _

 

“Keep breathing, okay? Look at me,” Patrick forced the man to look him in the eye, “Keep talking, what’s your name?”

 

“Uh-I-My name-” He gasped, “People call me Sis-Sisky.”

 

“It’s nice to meet you Sisky,” Patrick nodded calmly, “I’m Dr. Benzedrine… Tell me what happened, can you do that?” Patrick pressed a clean rag over the more gruesome parts of the wound and Sisky gasped.

 

“We-I was… By the water, I stopped-with my group we-” He choked and squeezed his eyes shut when Patrick put pressure on his chest, “They were hurt and I- I was saying to g-go here, one of them said- they had Dracs after so I sent them in and we led a group back to-” He winced and yelled and Patrick pulled away fast.

 

There wasn’t too much blood anymore, thankfully, most of it coming from the burns and the blast in the middle of his chest, “Tell me more, what happened when you were looking for Dracs?”

 

“There- The Snakes they-” Sisky flinched and tried to push Patrick away when he touched the burns and Patrick pushed his hand back and at his side, “They came after us and- _ shit _ \- they had fire- I caught it close-they fucking-” His voice went high,  _ “Fucking shot me-” _

 

“It’s not bad, okay?” Patrick let go of his hand, “I can wrap this and it’ll sting, I only have a little medication in this bag, but it’s good, straight out of the city, it’s going to hurt-”

 

“God, just do it,” Sisky spoke through gritted teeth, “That shit is like magic- just do it, I can-I can take it-”

 

Patrick fought the urge to smile, “It’s fine, you’re gonna be fine,” He dug some old white plastic gloves from the bag, quickly marveling at Boy Friday’s supply, and worked quick, ignoring Sisky as he went red in the face, trying not to squirm.

 

“Zac!” Patrick yelled back and the Police came quickly.

 

“Yessir!” He was sweating and Patrick pointed him to Sisky.

 

“Wrap him up and keep him clean, I have to get to the rest,” He patted Zac on the back before he could respond, grabbing the bag and fast-walking to the other bloody patients. Everything dissolved as he worked, the world outside the infirmary blurred and dulled as he cleaned injuries and listened to them talk away the pain.

 

Boy Friday grabbed him by the arm. “I need you with me for blaster shots.”

 

Patrick followed him, looking back as more injured stumbled or were carried in, Secret Police filled in the spot he had left empty, Zac took Boy Fridays place by a hyperventilating neutral, speaking softly and holding their bloody hands.

 

There was a second tent connected to the first, and before Boy Friday led him in he readjusted his cross, “Are you good with stitching?” Patrick’s world crumbled, his hands shook.

 

“No,” He croaked, “I’m not a Death Tech I can’t-”

 

“You’re going to help me anyway,” Boy Friday’s eyes were stone as he spoke through the Cross, “You’re a hell of a Sawbones, you can do this.”

 

He led Patrick inside.

 

This time there were tables instead of mats, a patchwork collection of gurneys to dinner tables laden with flowery sheets and loose pillows stained brown from the desert and attended by members of the Police. “Some are less serious than others, and not all are blaster shots,” Boy Friday talked fast, “We keep to this side and make our way down, this isn’t like Sisky-” Patrick wondered how he knew, “-These are from farther away, no cauterizing, like old acoustic guns from Pre-War-” He suddenly stopped, sucked in a breath and crouched, clutching his head in his hands.

 

“Are you okay?” Patrick ignored the moans from patients around him and crouched with him, “What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m fine,” Boy Friday said, blinking hard, “I forget I need to breathe sometimes-” He got to his feet just as quick, “We start here,” He pointed to a table at the end of the room, surrounded by people soaked in sweat, dust clinging to their clothes. When they turned, Patrick reeled back.

 

Young Vein turned first, his shoulders rising in shock with a surprised smile, “Benzedrine!” He rushed forward along with Mona Lisa, “I thought we wouldn’t see you again!” Patrick accepted his hug in surprise.

 

“”H-How are you in Settlement Four?” He asked, stepping back and looking past them at an apathetic Glass, staring down at- Patrick swallowed hard. “Oh.”

 

“ _ Oh _ , is right,” Boy Friday shooed another man away that Patrick didn’t recognize and set to tearing Baby Snake’s shirt off to see the bloody layers of gauze that were stained brown with dirt and sand, “This was from a distance, some might say that's better- How long have you been traveling with him like this?”

 

“We’ve been traveling a few days,” Glass was monotone and shaking, his hair was in his face and the bags under his face were dark. Now that the happiness at seeing a friend had drained from Mona and Young Vein’s faces, they were about the same, reaching out to squeeze Baby Snakes shoulder and flinching as he gasped for air.

 

“It’s better, but more blood,” Boy Friday slowly undid his bandages, “You did okay, but a little longer like this…” He didn’t finish and he didn’t need to. Young Vein let out a rattling breath and Mona Lisa pushed past the boy Patrick didn’t know who was staring wide eyed at Baby Snake’s bloody chest.

 

“But you can help him right?” Mona looked back and forth between Patrick and Friday.

 

“Of course.” Boy Friday snapped, “Benzedrine, you help clean it, I’m stitching it up, this isn’t something I can just wrap up.” Patrick blinked rapidly and grabbed the water bottle in his back and began to pour it slowly over Baby Snake, who gasped awake in pain.

 

“Oh- Shit, fuck!” He groaned and Boy Friday took him by the arm when he looked around frantically, “Where-Whe-”

 

“Hey! Hey! You’re in Settlement Four!” Boy Friday had next to no bedside manner, but it calmed Baby Snake down enough to look quietly for his friends, “I’m gonna have to stitch you up, it’s going to hurt.”

 

“Not as much as th-this hurts,” Baby Snake winced and tried to touch the bloody and ragged hole in his shoulder and Patrick stopped him, “Holy- holy  _ fuck _ \- Benzedrine?! Holy  _ sh-” _

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Patrick nodded as Boy Friday prepared a needle from his bag, “We’re gonna fix you up you’re gonna be fine.”

 

“I need you out if you’re gonna throw up.” Boy Friday pointed sharply at the other boys, “You especially!” The boy Patrick didn’t know showed his palms.

 

“I’m f-fine with that!” He was frozen in place until Mona grabbed his arm.

 

“Come on Ian.”

 

Young Vein and Glass stepped back, watching Baby Snake carefully. Boy Friday showed Patrick a needle that made Snake splutter, “Oh my  _ god.” _

 

“I need you to pay attention,” Boy Friday had a look on his face that was disturbingly calm, “When I run out of thread, which I always do, I have bits and pieces right now, you need to tie them.” Patrick nodded.

 

“Got it.”

 

Baby Snake held his breath when Boy Friday put the needle through, guiding it with his fingers and a pair of scissors that Patrick would take when the thread became too short to use. Baby Snake would jerk and stare and help whenever he was asked. Boy Friday was steady and unblinking, almost scary in his focus.Patrick wished he knew how to do what he was doing, to be so unshakeable in his abilities.

 

“Friday!” The side of tent opened wide, the fighting had seized, Patrick noticed for the first time with a start as the man dressed in Police black gasped for air, “We got another!”

 

Friday halted.

 

“I need you to finish this,” He looked up at Patrick, “Do exactly as I did and tie it at the end.” Patrick stared at the needle.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“There are four loops left, you can do that much.” Then he was gone, out the tent flap and after the Secret Police. Baby Snake winced and Glass came forward across from Patrick. He grabbed the scissors from his hand and said, his voice rasping:

 

“You’ll be fine.”

 

Patrick believed him, “Okay.” His hands shook and he blinked hard, “Okay.”

 

Baby Snake nodded, holding down the rag on his shoulder soaked with blood, less and less was falling, “Okay.” Patrick was shaking as he finished Boy Friday’s work, it seemed sloppy next to his straight and clean threads. It seemed only seconds later he was done, however, and Glass was cutting the string and tying it fast.

 

Baby Snake sighed in relief and grabbed Patrick’s arm, Young Vein sighed heavily, “Thank fucking Destroya,” He said, and Patrick nodded.

 

“Yeah, thank Destroya I didn’t kill you.”

 

“No,” Baby Snake shook his head, “You were fucking shiny, it was great…” He paused, breathing tightly, “Hey… Brobeck, is he here? Is Brobeck here?”

 

Patrick paused, then nodded, “Yeah… Yeah, Snake, he’s here, he’s safe.” Baby Snake huffed out a laugh of relief and Glass smiled. Young Vein nodded silently, suddenly looking exhausted.

 

Patrick’s world crumbled all of a sudden.

 

The tent flap opened in a burst of light with Boy Friday and Joan close, there was a yell and rapid breathing wracked with coughs of blood and shuddering gasps.

 

Stardust.

 

Patrick panicked, the blood and smoke from his clothes and the bubbled and burnt skin stabbed at his brain. A sob came from someone outside and in his mind, it turned into a scream, he grabbed Stardust’s shoulder and Boy Friday shouted and Joan snapped. Lightning followed, slowly, his face blank and Patrick bent under an invisible pressure- “Please- _ Please-” _

 

They laid him down.

 

“-Please-”

 

It almost seemed too much to ask.

 

There was too much to talk about, answers he still needed-  _ “Destroya please- _ ”

 

“Get out.”

 

Boy Friday was in front of him.

 

Patrick suddenly hated him.

 

“You won’t help.”

 

It was a disgusting kind of hatred, the kind that came from waterlogged anger and breathlessness, but for a second it felt  _ real  _ and true and Dr. Benzedrine wanted to grab him by the hair and shake him until he was bloody.

 

_ “Get out.” _

 

Then it was nothing but a dragging, clawing, fear and enviousness.

 

Patrick pushed his hands away, weak and desperate. He wasn’t crying, he couldn’t. He was-

 

“Shock won’t help him, you can’t help him,” Boy Friday held his shirt in his fists, “I can.”

 

His eyes were like stone.

 

Patrick envied him. More than anything, he wanted to know what that felt like, to say it so resolved and sure.  _ “I can.” _

 

Boy Friday wore his cross, clean and tight. Patrick felt an endless hunger for a second, through his shock and terror, a hunger that gnawed on his insides and made his fingers shake.

 

He obeyed, he got out.

 

He stood in the infirmary and shook. He took off his Cross and it dropped to the floor.

 

Patrick envied him.

 

Stardust could die.

 

And yet Patrick stood and envied Boy Friday.

 

It was better than fearing death, fearing the loss of any answers he could use to stitch together the terrifying question of his own death and rebirth and the burning rage in his chest.

 

Boy Friday was stinking with a purpose in every step he took, he breathed it and lived in it even in sleep. He wore a cross, he strapped it on and put himself in the line of fire, he was targeted first and continuously by Dracs and enemy fire. All for knowing what he knew, and for doing what he could do.

 

Patrick envied him with every fiber and stayed that way as long as he could. It put aside panic and fear and hopelessness, so he envied him for as long as he could manage.

 

Boy Friday was never helpless, he was cold and calculating and understanding and warm and knew his purpose without ever having to voice doubt. Patrick had stripped of all his worth, his title, his family and his home and the poisonous word that led his actions infected his world and his friends and his mission.

 

Scarecrow.

 

Patrick envied him because it was easier than the alternative.

 

Asking for a Cross, and learning what he knew.

 

Breaking down and screaming.

 

Stardust could die.

 

And Patrick envied Boy Friday.

 

Crash was there, “I didn’t see it, but you were-”

 

“You were right, it was Dahvie, of course it was-”

 

“Hayley, she can’t-”

 

The boys from the city, Tyler, and Josh, had exchanged their quiet for urgency. “We know what this is, we know-”

 

“The Retinal Resort-”

 

“-Those papers, we can help, it’s in the City if we-”

 

Patrick nodded, and he hated them, they turned to each other, Crash to Tyler, Tyler to Josh, Josh to Crash, “We know-we can help-there’s this-Perry- Scarecrow-”

 

Gathered around a mat.

 

The man from Hyper Thrust-

 

Patrick rushed forward, still shaking and hating and panicking and envying- 

 

“Patrick?”

 

“Patrick!”

 

Patrick fell through his own mind and dissolved.

 

Pete hugged him back, smiling and breathless and shivering, Patrick squeezed him around his neck and his red eyes met Joe’s.

 

He reached out Patrick turned and grabbed him, pulling on his shirt and wrapping his arms around to Joe’s back. His eyes were blurry and he cried.

 

He stopped hating and let himself fall.

 

Pete and Joe had appeared as if he had wished them. They didn’t ask any reason for his tears, or his desperate squeezes or his tight and frantic murmurings.

 

“He was shot,” He said, and they nodded, “He was shot.”

 

They sat at the empty end of the infirmary, looking to the tent where Stardust could be dying.

 

Quiet.

 

Patrick decided they should never split like they had.

 

It was over, he was done, he would find the Scarecrow with these strangers from only weeks ago, or he wouldn’t do it at all.

 

“He’ll be okay.” Joe, Horseshoe Crab said.

 

“They’ll fix him up.” Pete, Black Card nodded.

 

“I hope so,” Patrick, Daylight Drug, Dr. Benzedrine whispered, “I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How are you guys here?” Patrick can’t help his breathless smile.

 

They were sitting in the Secret Police’s tent, their groups spread out at tables, quiet or whispering. Josh and Tyler stayed close, their voices were a low drone in the background. Patrick wondered what they had said, guilt-racked at the back of his mind for ignoring them. Green Man had joined Young Vein and Glass and Mona at the infirmary, wordlessly communicating through hugs and endless looks. Dahvie had been taken away by Police, monitored in some building Patrick didn’t feel like caring about.

 

He hated him, he’d always hated him, Patrick realized, from the moment they had met, but it been different to the sort of hatred he had now, outward and focused.

 

It had been inward, messy, and pressing then, in that bar as they spoke with the Artist Formerly Known. Made up only with that terrible hotness in his chest. He had been disgusted by him, his every action, every word, it made him sick and uncomfortable.

 

Now it was out, directed, and quiet, Patrick had no reason to question it anymore.

 

He hated Dahvie, and he hated The Southern Man and he hated Mr. Brightside.

 

Mostly, hated himself.

 

“We’re after Andy…” Pete looked to Joe, “He got taken by one of the Snakes…”

 

There was a strange feeling in the air. Patrick felt open, his throat scratched numbly. He ached.

 

Pete and Joe had been stripped of their codenames in his mind, in a way that seemed more personal and emotional, rather than violent and forced.

 

“We left the Shithole to find the Cobra,” Joe said, gesturing back to the infirmary, “His eyes got messed up, but we don’t know why, he was going to lead us to them, and hopefully…” He didn’t finish, but Patrick understood.

 

Hopefully, Andy is still alive.

 

“And him?” Patrick pointed to the man from Hyper Thrust, his loose and greasy hair falling forward and covering his face as he gazed at the floor.

 

“Fun Ghoul,” Pete answered, “He helped us save Cobra and his friend, now he’s… He’s sticking around.” Fun Ghoul looked up sideways at Patrick, tilting his head and eyeing him through his hair. He was wide faced and tired, but sober.

 

He waved at Patrick with a tattooed hand and hummed a single note.

 

Patrick nodded.

 

“I saw his eyes,” Patrick turned back, “Was it BLi?”

 

“He thinks he’s cursed,” Pete said, “Suarez doesn’t know, neither of them remembers it happening.” Patrick thought for a minute.

 

“I’ve never seen it before, he doesn’t look blind,” Patrick tried, “I can look, Boy Friday would- Boy Friday might know what it is.”

 

“Then how will we get to the Snake’s camp?” Joe asked, “He can’t guide us anymore, we have a shitton of crap to deal with already-”

 

Lightning’s voice came blank and fast, “There’s a Secret Police guy,” He said, “He was talking about the Snake’s, he knows where they are” He sat with Secret Lover and Crash, deathly silent and watching him as he spoke, “Fuck knows we gotta do something, I can’t sit here and cry about this  _ shit  _ anymore.” He spat in anger.

 

“You think this guy will take us there?” Pete asked.

 

Lightning shrugged.

 

“You know I’ve heard these assfucks skin people alive?” Fun Ghoul slouched back at his table, “What is it with the zones and cults? You already dusted those Brightside fucks, why do you have to go after another? Your friend could be dead already.”

 

Pete flinched like he’d been hit and Patrick looked over at Fun Ghoul and his curtain of black hair.

 

“Andy is our friend, like you said,” Patrick believed his words, “That makes him important, more important than anything the zones put in our way.”  _ More important than the Scarecrow _ , Patrick decided.

 

Fun Ghoul looked away.

 

The tent flap opened again and Patrick held his breath without thinking.

 

Brobeck, The Socialite, as he went as now, took up space in the tent as he entered, ducking low and looking back at everyone as they looked at him. He nodded to Fun Ghoul, and greeted Josh and Tyler, and smiled at Patrick as gently as he could.

 

Patrick remembered him with his hands around The Mother’s throat.

 

“Socialite,” He stood and The Socialite squeezed his face and looked at him expectantly, “Baby Snake, he’s in the inf-”

 

“I know,” The Socialite nodded, “I don’t know.”

 

Patrick understood him.

 

“And Stardust- Aladdin-” Socialite shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

 

“He’s alive,” Patrick said, “He’s going to be okay.” it was more of a prayer, Boy Friday had yet to reveal himself and give answers. The Socialite sat and Patrick copied him, this time sitting alongside Pete and Joe.

 

The Socialite was across from them at his own table, folding himself up small to fit and picking at the rough wood. 

 

Their group was a magnet, drawing Secret Lover and Lightning and Crash closer. Josh and Tyler seemed to lean in, still talking their low drone of a conversation. The Socialite looked up at Patrick.

 

“I killed that lady,” He said, refusing to cushion the words, Fun Ghoul looked up at him with a different pair of eyes.

 

“Yeah,” Pete said, “You did.”

 

“I know I was helping… Glass would have died.”

 

They stayed silent, the only noise coming from neutrals and Secret Police outside.

 

“I left and Racetraitor got taken and… I don’t know, I shouldn’t have. I should have stayed and helped more, but there was… I couldn’t do it…” He looked up at Pete, “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked and he screws up his face again, “I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to say sorry to me,” Pete shook his head, “Never, I can’t- Not for that, never for that, I killed a Drac for the first time I- But Glass? And Baby Snake? Glass yelled himself hoarse trying to find you, Baby Snake was torn to pieces when I left with Horseshoe and Green Man-”

 

“Okay,” Socialite sniffed, “Okay,” He looked up at Patrick and for a moment he was silent. “About what Joan was saying though,” He paused heavily and Patrick straightened in his seat, “The fire and that woman and my… my mom.”

 

“This is all getting so complicated.” Secret Lover finally spoke and Crash nodded.

 

“I was expecting conspiracies,” He looked in between Secret Lover and The Socialite, “But this is so… it’s so wide, not to mention the Brightside cult and The Snakes and…” Crash gave Patrick a small look, “Bigger mysteries.”

 

“I think-” They turned fast as Tyler finally spoke, his voice cracking and low, “It’s the Resort.”

 

“What do you mean?” Pete frowned, “You said that before, The Retinal Resort, I thought that was just a rehab center.”

 

“Is anything BLi does  _ just _ anything?” Joe said, scornful, and Patrick nodded.

 

“I was in it,” Tyler said, Josh put a hand on his shoulder, “I escaped, sort of, but they were doing stuff there, stuff that made me… It was something else, I get… They took my friend, but all those papers of Joan’s, they talked about the Resort  _ a lot _ , it has to mean something.”

 

“If this is what it’s coming to…” Fun Ghoul murmured, “You guys might end up goin’ to the City.” There was a silence that settled over the tent, each group thinking about the implications.

 

“I think I knew that,” Patrick looked down at his hands, “I think it was going to happen no matter what.”

 

“Hey, we’ll be with you,” Joe leaned forward with him, “Card and I.”

 

“Definitely,” Pete echoed, “We’re here through static.” Patrick smiled.

 

“City Rat’s finally using lingo?”

 

Pete snorted and for a second the heaviness was gone, replaced by light, then Pete looked back at The Socialite and Tyler, and Joe and Patrick. There was heat in his eyes that settled on Patrick’s shoulders and pushed him down into the sand. For a second there was someone else behind his eyes and he said: “First, Andy, then the Scarecrow.”

 

_ “The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of the infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.”  _

_ ―  _ _ H.P. Lovecraft _ _ ,  _ _ The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like... there's four chapters left guys  
> I hope everything makes sense!! And thank you so much for reading!


	18. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little short! Something like the calm before the storm I suppose.

 

_ “Maybe we needed to break a little, so we could put ourselves back together more beautifully than before.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Leah Raeder _ _ ,  _ _ Cam Girl _

 

Baby Snake was moved to the more general infirmary area, and the air was somehow easier to breathe for Young Vein. The cramped tent that had been used for more urgent care was suffocating and felt like death. He felt better when they moved, but bit back his relief as Baby Snake struggled to walk and position himself comfortably on an open mat.

 

Their group was met with calm Secret Police members that looked them over in hushed tones and soft smiles. But it felt genuine, not the soft-but-degrading smiles he remembered in the city. He giggled when one Police member began to wrap Glass in gauze around his arms and neck and covering him in a BLi labeled burn medicine.

 

Glass looked confused the entire time, his eyes wide, Mona Lisa nodded professionally and said: “It’s been a long time coming.” Baby Snake just rolled his eyes.

 

Young Vein just hoped Glass would let himself be helped, no matter about Mona Lisa’s psychic powers.

 

Boy Friday came out after a short while, looking tired and slow. But he stayed in the infirmary long enough to look everyone over, including Ian, binding a few of his fingers together with a few frustrated grunts. “Oh wow,” Ian looked them over, “They don’t hurt as much.”

 

“They were sprained,” Boy Friday rolled his eyes with endless patience, “Killjoys… honestly.”

 

He left with a short glance at Glass and nodded at the bandages he had wrapped around his burned skin.

 

Baby Snake grunted and shifted to sit, “Come on, help me up.” He waved his hand at them and Mona Lisa stepped.

 

“What are you polka-dotty? No way!”

 

“Brobeck is out there,” Baby Snake persisted, “And if he doesn’t get up and drag his sorry spider legs into this shitty infirmary I will drag my myself to find him until my stitches  _ break. _ ” 

 

“And then what? You bleed out and die?” A new voice came from the far end of the infirmary, past a row of filled mats, Young Vein turned and almost jumped into the air.

 

“Green Man!” He started over and Mona followed, stepping quickly past Secret Police and the injured. Young Vein hugged him as soon as he was close, squeezing his shoulders and shifting out of Mona’s way as he threw his arms around Green Man’s neck. “Holy shit!”

 

They separated and Green Man grabbed them both by the hair, shaking their heads affectionately as they made their way back to Baby Snake, “It’s so good to see you guys again!” He smiled, “And Baby Snake! I was serious you’ll tear those stitches.” Baby Snake shook his head, annoyed, then gave Green Man a one-armed hug around the neck.

 

“Good to see you again, motorbaby.”

 

Green Man turned and shook hands with Ian, lightly squeezing his bandaged hands, “Nice to meet you, and hey-” He turned back, “We must have gotten here around the same time as you guys.”

 

“We got here before the fight started,” Mona nodded, “We were gonna go look for you but…” He nodded toward Baby Snake. Glass stepped forward to greet The Green Man as he nodded sympathetically. 

 

Glass stared for a second and then stuck out his hand for him to shake. Green Man looked at it, then grabbed it and pulled him into a short hug, “Aw! Come on, Glass! You’re a friend!” Glass went rigid for a second then relaxed, patting Green Man on the back before stumbling backward.

 

_ “Oh… okay.” _ He smiled briefly and Young Vein patted his shoulder as Mona hugged Green Man again.

 

“Shit man! I thought you would be gone forever!”

 

Green Man laughed and told them about his own journey, his run in with the Dracs and blowing up a Better Living base and laughing when he told them about the Range Rover, “You did _what?!_ _To my car!?”_ Mona Lisa grabbed his collar and they laughed, sinking into a comfortable quiet after the Secret Police shushed them when they got too rowdy.

 

Green Man looked around at them, his eyes light, and said, “I wish Disco could be here…” Young Vein looked up at him, “He uh… He probably would have liked this place.” Vein paused internally and nodded.

 

“Yeah,” He looked down at his feet, “He would have.” There was a second of silence as they huddled close around Baby Snake mat, sitting down and just looking at each other.

 

“So, how’s finding your friend going?” Mona asked in the tone of voice that Vein always thought meant he already knew the answer.

 

“Slow,” Green Man shrugged, “We found our guide, in the back of a BLi truck, The Cobra,” He rotated to point at two tall boys on mats on the other side of the infirmary, one was being examined by a few Secret Police and thick gauze bandages were wrapped around his head to cover his eyes. “But he’s… I don’t know what they did to him, he can barely see, his eyes are purple and cloudy… He was supposed to help us to the Snake’s camp, but he can’t do anything right now.”

 

_ “And you have no idea?”  _ Glass spoke, concerned,  _ “Nobody knows what’s wrong?” _

 

Green Man shrugged, “The Secret Police are worried it’s something new, something BLi cooked up to just use on us, make us all blind and scared so we’re no problem… I’m just trying to think of it as he got into something by accident, some plant or infection or… It’s better than the other thing.”

 

“I don’t like it,” Mona narrowed his eyes, “It gives me a bad feeling, and not the bad ‘Better Living’ kind, something dark.” Glass wrapped his bandaged arms tighter around himself, and Young Vein was brought back to the concrete ruins. Tom and his fearful, shaking, voice, describing the bad things he’s been seeing in his radiation induced hallucinations.

 

Young Vein hadn’t been able to get it out of his head, he knew almost nothing of the person Glass had been besides  _ Brendon _ , and  _ Sarah _  and the Wave Heads were an almost separate colony in the desert. They had their own customs and society, far removed the Killjoys and the rebellion and BLi.

 

He wondered if Glass thought about Killjoys in the same way.

 

Mona had asked about his mother.

 

“She was nice, when we first met her,” Green Man’s expression changed to one of pure confusion, “We helped get rid of some Dracs outside her home, and she knew who Black Card was?” Mona Lisa nodded, having no problem. “And after that…” Green Man shrugged, “She got weird, like, it went  _ Costa Rica _ , I mean.” Mona Lisa frowned.

 

“What happened?”

 

“She started to make us lunch? Then she freaked out, went batshit, yelled at Black Card like he was the Director or something,” Green Man shook his head at the absurdity, “I mean she helped with finding The Cobra but she was ballistic, Mona, she ran us off the property.”

 

Mona only nodded, “Yeah that does sound weird, but… I don’t know, that’s my  _ mom _ .”

 

They continued to trade stories while trying to put the strange occurrences in the back of their minds. Which included Baby Snake recounting the tale of his getting shot, a story that might have included a few too many explosions and accounts of his badassery. “You did  _ not _  kick a Drac in the face, you stood up on the dune and acted like a sniper!” Ian finally said and was smacked by Baby Snake.

 

“Can’t I exaggerate?!” He asked, smiling and shifting to a more comfortable position.

 

Glass smiled and looked to Young Vein, about to speak when he stopped, looking at him in shock.  _ “Hey-” _ He stood and Young Vein looked over his shoulder and gasped.

 

“Brobeck!”

 

Their group stopped their chatter and stood slowly as they saw Brobeck, who was wringing his hands as he looked on. Baby Snake sat up straight, “Dallon…”

 

Brobeck’s eyes widened and he raised his hand, “Um… Hi.” He started over, slow. Glass and Young Vein were frozen in place as Mona greeted him, taking his hand and chattering loudly until he noticed how silent everyone else was.

 

Finally, Brobeck looked down at Baby Snake, and sat down heavily next to him, “I’m…” He reached toward Baby Snakes stitched shoulder, his hand hovering over the gauze for a second before he crossed his arms around himself. 

 

“Somebody was telling me you’re going by a different name.” Baby Snake said, and Brobeck nodded and looked at the floor.

 

“Socialite.” He whispered.

 

“Socialite,” Baby Snake nodded, “Hey,” He  leaned a little to look Socialite in the eye, “Look at me.” Socialite shook his.

 

“No,” He shook his head, “I’m… I’m so sorry, I can’t.”

 

_ “Dallon,”  _ Glass rocked forward and Socialite put his head in his hands, mussing up his hair and squeezing his shoulders in.

 

“I thought- I can’t…” He looked up, “I thought I could do this, I’m sorry- I left-”

 

“Dallon!” Baby Snake grabbed his shoulder, “I… I’m just glad you’re okay! I thought you got taken by Dracs or worse-”

 

“But I left!” Socialite flinched, “I shouldn’t- I had to leave and I didn’t even… I was trying to fix what I did but I just made everything worse, and now you’re shot and you almost died and-” His face squeezed and Baby Sanke frowned.

 

“Trying to fix what?” He paused, “It was the woman, right? The one that you-”   
  
Socialite nodded before he could finish, “And that man, Stardust, he- He was going to help, he wanted forgiveness and I wanted to help, I just want to stop feeling like this-” Baby Snake hugged him quickly, wincing at his shoulder but squeezing tight anyway.

 

“You didn’t have to leave!” Baby Snake pulled away, “You never had to do that, Dallon, I don’t care what you did, I just want you to be okay, that’s all I wanted, you saved Glass’s life!” Glass nodded.

 

_ “I was so scared when you left…” _ He tilted his head,  _ “I thought we would never find you.” _

 

Socialite looked up at him, “I just wanted a way to… To-” Young Vein realized how deep Glass’s words had cut. There were several moments of absolute silence in the midst of a sudden and deafening cacophony from the infirmary around them.

 

Patients were awoken by Police and winced in pain, there was shouting for aid and attention and even hysterical laughter coming from all sides. Whimpers of pain and hurt joined The Socialite’s own cries. Everything seemed to speed up and slow to a crawl at the same time, Young Vein saw Boy Friday for the third time that day, stumbling out from between tent flaps, sweaty and crouching to the ground to breathe. Glass picked aimlessly at his bandages, almost desperate as the sun peaked through the clouds.

 

“What were you looking for, Socialite?” He finally asked as The Socialite wiped his tears. “You came with that man, the one that Dr. Benzedrine-What did you want to find?” The Socialite swallowed.

 

“Stardust he-he was looking for forgiveness…” He squeezed his face in, “Trying to-trying to find an answer to what happened to the Outskirts, before the wall was put up-” Young Vein went rigid, his shoulders tightening, “There had been a-a-”

 

“A fire.” Young Vein finished, Green Man looked up at him. “It destroyed everything? I know.”

 

The Socialite nodded, his eyes wide, “He-Stardust thought he could find answers and find forgiveness, from Destroya, and I… We found answers, sort of-” He turned to Baby Snake, “-Joan, Celluloid Hero, she was talking about my mom and Irena! She said she’s still alive, and Stardust was talking about… Everyone is talking about the City, about going-” Baby Snake grabbed his hand.

 

“What are you talking about? Slow down.”

 

“I’m talking about going to the City, there could be answers,-” Vein squeezed his fists, “-My mom, Irena, Snake,  _ Irena _ , she could be-”

 

“No, Dallon,” Baby Snake shook his head, “Irena is gone, you know she is-”

 

“But she-She could be-You-”

 

“She was my _ mom _ , Dallon, I know she’s dead.”

 

The Socialite stopped abruptly and Young Vein shook his head angrily, “You can’t just come in here and say shit like that.” He said and Mona Lisa turned to face him.

 

“Young Vein-”

 

“No,” Vein looked to Socialite, who stared at him with bated breath, “You can’t-You can’t come in here and say you suddenly have answers to that fire as if you know what even happened that day. I am so happy you are  _ safe, _ Socialite, but fuck you, I was there, and I know  _ exactly _ what happened.”

 

He was almost breathing heavy, his heart beat faster and the heat of the desert settled underneath his skin, Ian looked back and forth between them, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, “What-?”

 

“I didn’t- I didn’t know that Young Vein, I’m sorry-” Socialite’s face screwed, “-I’m- I don’t know-”

 

“My family was burned alive, that’s what happened, I don’t care about your mom, or  _ conspiracy theories _ because they aren’t real, I’ve heard hundreds of them and _ none of them _ , know what I saw, and they’re all full of shit, I know  _ exactly _ , what happened-”

 

Mona tried again, “Young Vein-”

 

“Better Living _ hated _ the Outskirts,” Ryan felt a boiling under his skin, “They hated us more than Killjoys even because we were a blemish, an ugly, disgusting sore on their beautiful City, we were poor, and dirty, and _ awake _ . We couldn’t afford Better Living Food, or clothes, or houses, we weren’t on their pills, we couldn’t buy their products, or be perfect and clean because they shut off our damn _ water _ so many times-!”

 

“Vein-!”

 

“My best friend, couldn’t use their hospitals or their treatment centers, we had to go hungry every other day, my mom could barely afford to buy me school supplies so they _ burned it all to the ground!”  _ He was waking up patients, causing a scene, and he didn’t know why he’d never felt anger like this before. It was a quiet rage that seemed to fill the entirety of Zone 1, spilling through his pores and manifesting in angry, hot tears.

 

_ Answers _ , Socialite had said,  _ I have answers, _ he thought, _ I’ve had them since I was ten years old. _

 

_ “We couldn’t live like they wanted us to, so instead of helping us, _ they killed us! _ ” _

 

_ “Ryan!”  _ Glass stood to look him in the eye, Socialite had buried his head in his hands and Ian wide-eyed and afraid. Young Vein stopped and began to whisper furiously.

 

_ “Answers, to why,”  _ He couldn’t look at Socialite anymore,  _ “I know why.” _

 

“I need to ask you to leave, sir,” A Secret Police member gripped him around the arm, her voice low and calming, “Now.”

 

Young Vein shot a look at Baby Snake, who looked ready to throttle him, and he left the infirmary.

 

Green Man found him leaning against a closed market stall, have mangled from the Cults and the Snakes attack. He was quiet for a minute, looking at the ground and pushing sand around with his foot.

 

Then he said, “That was so shitty, Ryan.”

 

He said it somewhat under his breath and Young Vein had to lean forward to hear him, “That was so fucking shitty.”

 

Ryan took a deep breath, “He can’t just-”

 

“That doesn’t matter!” Jon whipped around, “That doesn’t matter, you screwhead, he’s been gone for days, he’s desperate and ashamed, and I know who you are, Ryan, that was the worst day of your life but what the fuck!”

 

“He can’t-!” Ryan squeezed inward, “He can’t have answers! He can’t just come back and say he knows everything about what I went through-”

 

“He didn’t even know, you are so- You’re such Angel Food sometimes! You make these Desert Born decisions and you’re a leader and then you turn around and make these City Rat decisions like you’ve never seen a blaster-”

 

“So I’m not allowed to be angry!? Ever?” Ryan spat back, “I have to be  _ The Leader of The Danger Blues _ ! All the time-!”   
  
“No!” Jon pushed him back by his shoulders into the wood and grabbed his collar furiously, “No…” He sighed and let go, “Obviously you don’t… But that? Ryan, there had to be a better way… If I had known this was… If-I would never have… I didn’t know you were thinking about that, I didn’t realize-”

 

“Brent,  _ died _ , Jon, I-” Ryan fell to his knees suddenly, “He’s dead.” He looked up at Jon, who lowered himself to be level with Ryan.

 

Finally, it had hit him.

 

Not in the way it had back at The Shithole when he had run into its endless maze of shelves and stared blankly at the porcelain dolls. But different.

 

“Not because of BLi, or the fire, or in a  _ clap _ , he just-” Ryan pulled at his hair, greasy with sweat and curling loosely around his fingers, “And then- We’ve been wanting answers for so long but we already knew and he- He _ died, _ without even realizing-” Jon didn’t say anything, just leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and letting him stain his shirt with tears. “He’s dead.”

 

“In the desert…” Jon said, fading away and letting Ryan fill in the blanks. It was something Mona always said, repeating Dr. Death-Defying.

 

They separated. 

 

“You should hear him out.” 

 

Ryan looked up at him.

 

“You should, I’m serious, Ryan, this is Better Living we’re talking about, nothing is ever as it seems with those people,  _ never _ .” 

 

Ryan looked away, toward people he knew were Black Card and Horseshoe Crab, “Are you still… Going after Racetraitor? Andy?” He looked back at the Green Man who sighed.

 

“Yeah, Lightning has somebody in the Secret Police that says he can guide us to the Snakes.”

 

“Let Mona and I come.”

 

“No fucking way.”

 

“Green-”

 

“No, Vein, Mona is exhausted, you’re half asleep and don’t get me started on Socialite and Baby and Glass, who I know will follow you over a cliff-”

 

“Glass is-”

 

“A Wave Head, Young Vein.”

 

“He’s getting better, I trust him.”

 

“I do too, Vein, bit he’s gonna be a Wave Head for a long fucking time, I’ve never seen them get better, only worse-”

 

“You don’t-”

 

“You’re right, I don’t know anything.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “This doesn’t have anything to do with this anyway… But I’m not- I don’t know him, I’ve been going after my friend, and I’m not stopping, Young Vein, he is _ so close, _ I can’t stop now, not when I know I could help him, so  _ please _ , Young Vein, please, stay where I know you’ll be safe.”

 

Young Vein realized The Green Man wasn’t begging.

 

He was asking for permission.

 

Like Young Vein was The Leader of the Danger Blues.

 

The little boy from the fire screamed at him at the front of his mind,  _ don’t let go, never let go, you can’t let him leave don’t let go he’s yours he’s yours HE’S YOURS YOU CAN’T YOUCAN’TYOUCAN’TYOUCAN’T- _

 

“You do what you need to do.” Young Vein stood and Green Man followed, “You do what you need to do, and you come back. I don’t care if you’re bleeding out and you need to pull your own body behind you,  _ you come back.” _

 

“No matter what, I swear to _ god _ , Young Vein, everyone comes back and we…” Green Man put a hand on Vein’s shoulder, “We go to the City like they’re saying- These two boys, City Rats, you need to talk to them, and Socialite-”

 

“Everyone comes back,” Young Vein put his hand on Green Man’s shoulder, spotting Crash coming from behind them from his group with Black Card and Horseshoe Crab. “Okay?”

 

Green Man turned to follow his gaze to Crash, “Okay.”

 

“Lightning found the guy,” Crash smiled weakly at both of them, “He’s a medic, Zac Farro, he can take us to the Snakes.” Green Man hugged Young Vein, quick and desperate.

 

“I’ll see you later.”

 

Young Vein watched him leave, an ugly, storming feeling forming in his chest.

 

He looked back to the Infirmary.

 

He would have to fix this before they became even more broken.

 

_ “But is has happened, you know. Bear that in mind. Nothing you can do will change it. Time and again, I've found that a good thing to remember.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Edith Wharton _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things go to shit next chapter, I know there's been a lot of talking and stuff, but this chapter possibly my favorite, it has a lot of stuff coming through the cracks. I hope you guys stay with me through all these really "touchy-feely" chapters, I have these pretty much planned out so far and every part has a meaning in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!


	19. Rose-Colored

 

_“It was not the brutality of what occurred next that changed my mind and brought home to me the full meaning of fear. It was the brilliance of it.”_

_―_ _Elizabeth Kostova_ _,_ _The Historian_

 

The man Lightning led them to was a half-dead looking medic in the Secret Police. His name was Zac, and he shook hands with them all in such a way Horseshoe thought he was only faking the enthusiasm. His smile was bright but his eyes drooped, and his fingers shook with tired. “And Dr. Benzedrine, I know!”

 

“Why don’t we talk away from here?” Lightning asked him and he nodded.

 

“My shift ends anyway,” Zac said, turning to another Police member and handing them a bag of his supplies, “And I should tell you!” His eyes got soft and sympathetic, "Boy Friday is still in there, things are looking up for your friend!” Lightning and Secret Lover released the tension in their shoulders and Benzedrine looked back to the infirmary. Horseshoe couldn’t read his expression well enough to deduce what he was thinking.

 

Crash came back with The Green Man, who greeted Black Card with a brief clap of their hands, “Where’s Fun Ghoul?” He asked as they made their way past a few tents and shacks.

 

“He said he was grabbing a drink…” Black Card looked around corners and over heads, “There he is.” He pointed to a group of Secret Police and neutrals that were sitting around a makeshift table. They were playing a game of cards, exchanging carbons and small car parts and tools with every other hand. Horseshoe could see Fun Ghoul standing at the edge of the group, the back of his green vest had a faded red target spray painted on.

 

“Great,” Zac nodded, “We can get him, and talk over there by that cart.” He pointed past the card game to a broken wooden cart littered with broken bottles.

 

Black Card and Horseshoe headed towards Fun Ghoul,  letting the rest of the group set up by the cart.

 

“Goddamnit, you son of bitch…” A hand was made as they approached that sent the group up in a burst of shouting and cheers, Fun Ghoul laughed loudly and the winner was given a large pile of metal and carbons.

 

“Beat that you fucks!”

 

“Ghoul,” Horseshoe grabbed his shoulder and he whirled around, his eyes wide before he said:

 

“Oh,” He stepped away from the group, “Yeah?”

 

“Lightning found the guy,” Black Card answered and tilted his head toward the cart. Fun Ghoul gave the game one more passing glance then followed them to the rest of the group.

 

“Yeah, I found some shit too,” He gave them both a hard look, “These Police fuckers are loaded.”

 

“How do you mean?” Black Card asked.

 

“I mean, legit explosive shit, detonators, gun cotton, and not just the crap I cooked up all hasty for your rescue mission.” They came up to the group as he finished and Zac Farro nodded.

 

“Oh yeah,” He said, adjusting his loose knit hat over his hair, “G has a whole armory thing he made with the first group of Police, good luck trying to get anything out of it.”

 

“Would anything in there help against the Snakes?” Green Man inquired, furrowing his brow and crossing his arms.

 

“I mean, if they’re human, everything,” Zac shrugged, trying to joke, “That is if they haven’t uh… Haven’t grown scales or, or anything.”

 

“If it’s bombs, and it will be, I want them.” Fun Ghoul was blank-faced.

 

“And if Andy gets hurt in an explosion? If anybody, gets hurt that’s on our side?” Crash asked.

 

“They won’t be, I know what I’m doing,” Fun Ghoul said pointedly.

 

“And why the fuck do you care so much about Andy?” Lightning asked.

 

“I could ask you the same damn thing,” Fun Ghoul shot back and Lightning froze, “I know about two things about the Snake Worshippers, one, they kill people to prevent a fake as shit doomsday, and two, they don’t care who dies and who lives.”

 

“Dude, if you know what you’re doing, get some firepower,” Zac shrugged, “Just be careful, G will shoot you if he sees you.”

 

“You two,” Fun Ghoul pointed at Horseshoe and Crash without responding, “Help me carry shit back.” He left without another word and Horseshoe looked back at Benzedrine.

 

“Just go, we need all the help we can, if these people are like he said, it’ll be a lot worse than what happened at Hyper Thrust, these people want to kill Andy… if Fun Ghoul wants to help, I’m not going to argue with him about it.” Horseshoe looked back and Crash grabbed his arm.

 

“Here let’s go,” He started after Fun Ghoul, “We gotta make sure he doesn’t… Whatever he does.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So how did you guys find him?” Crash asked. They were walking a few feet behind Fun Ghoul, the target on his back made it easy for them to keep track of him in the thin crowd of neutrals and Secret Police.

 

“He was fighting these Dracs…” Horseshoe honestly had no complete way to describe it, by some twist of fate and getting lost in the sand, still scared out of their minds after Mrs. Smith had gone insane, they had been followed by a group of Draculoids in their white SUV. “It’s kinda weird... he jumped over our car on a motorcycle.”

 

The Draculoids had whooping and hollering into the blue sky, hopped up on whatever acid BLi allowed them. Horseshoe couldn’t shoot straight and Black Card still seemed to be stuck back in time with Mrs. Smith, the knife so close to spearing him through the eye. “I think he used to be an Exterminator.”

 

“Huh,” Crash said, his eyes trailing down to his dragging feet, “It’s weird, I mean, it’s like I don’t anything about the desert.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Horseshoe frowned, giving him a bewildered sideways glance, “You and Benzie are from the same place right? It’s like you guys know _everything._ You drive at night, you know how to talk to everyone out here, it’s like you move with the damn sand… I could barely deliver my mail without offending someone.”

 

“Yeah, but…” Crash sighed and pulled his hair back, “I mean that’s just a thing out here, when you’re desert born you just know everyone, or at least the kinda person they are, you know which neutrals to leave alone and which Dracs you can bribe and which Wave Head you can wake up without a fight, even if Lightning says they’re all the same… But I just don’t know anything about my own home.”

 

“It’s a big home to have.” Horseshoe shrugged, dodging around a group of neutral teenagers grilling a Police member about his raygun, and following Fun Ghoul as he turned a corner.

 

“No, it’s…” Crash looked strained, “I guess so.”

 

Horseshoe didn’t think it was his place to press, but it might have been the City in him that thought that, “Tell me.” He said, nudging his shoulder at Crash.”

 

“No, no, you’re right, it is big… devastatingly big,” Crash insisted, “The zones are so fucking big, I could scream for days and no one would hear, it’s so big, I think I’d go insane if I thought about it all the time, I’d want to tear my eyes out and let my heart beat straight outta my chest it’s so big… But Destroya, it’s so small.”

 

Fun Ghoul had slowed, glancing behind to make sure they were keeping up.

 

“I don’t know my own people, Horseshoe, I don’t know about Secret Police and who people used to be, and I didn’t know about the Brightsides and these Snakes but it feels so _claustrophobic_ and I can’t _breathe_ , I can’t take two steps without brushing up against someone… I can’t even imagine the City, Horseshoe, I can’t imagine being from there like you, or going there, or living and working or even _existing_ in that place, I’d feel so giant compared to everything because out here I’m so big, but in there I feel like I would be squeezed into _nothing.”_

 

Horseshoe thought Crash was going to cry from the way his voice cracked, “I guess… The zones are small, but the City…” He nodded, “The City is like a pocket you can’t carry anything in… People are too big for a place like that.”

 

“Isn’t it kinda funny, how we just never talked until now?” Crash asked suddenly.

 

Horseshoe paused, “Yeah, it is, we never spoke until now.”

 

“Yeah,” Crash nodded, “the Zones are big like that.”

 

“Hey!” Fun Ghoul waved them over, “It’s right here.”

 

Crash and Horseshoe glanced at each other, immediately attempting to sober themselves up, Fun Ghoul sighed heavily. The armory he had been so excited about was little more than the usual Settlement Four building, wood and mud held together and set low in the ground.

 

Around here, crowds were sparse, just small groups instead of a tumbling river of people. Crash said, “Should we sneak in or-”

 

The thin screen door near slammed open and Fun Ghoul reeled back, “Crash?” A curtain of black hair came out of the door. Blue eyes wide, Crash pulled a confused grimace.

 

“What the fuck- Sixx!?” He rushed forward and they pulled each other into a tight squeeze around the shoulders. “Wha- When did you get here?” They pulled away, Sixx smiling widely.

 

“You guys want in the armory, right?” He waved Horseshoe and Ghoul closer, “Here, come on, we can talk.”

 

The inside of the building was slightly more impressive than the outside. Small crates of stolen BLi weaponry and guns were stacked and organized in piles around the room, and Fun Ghoul took to them instantly, rooting around in the white containers as fast as he could, taking things out and putting them in a heap on the ground. Horseshoe grabbed a ray gun off the wall, intending to give it to Black Card, who’s gun had shorted out days before.

 

“I got here with Baby Snake,” Sixx was telling Crash, “Got separated in the fight but I got in with a few Secret Police-”  


“You said you were gonna look for the Scarecrow-”  


“I know I-” Sixx looked back up, “Grab the rest of your shit, if you’re taking it, G won’t like you in here.” 

 

Crash looked taken aback, “Sixx-”

 

“I can talk later, just go, okay?” Sixx looked over Crash’s shoulder and Fun Ghoul was already out the building, shoving an armful of homemade explosives at Horseshoe and Crash.

 

“Take some!’

 

Sixx’s hastiness was right, G had been walking with a few Secret Police, Sean and Mac,  escorting Dahvie-

 

Horseshoe looked away and ran down the thin street after Fun Ghoul, Black Card’s new gun bouncing against his hip.

 

* * *

 

 

“We gotta go now if we want to beat sundown,” Zac said, giving wide glances around the car lot as Horseshoe and Crash joined him.

 

“Wait, what?” Fun Ghoul spat, “Who cares? We can catch ‘em by surprise when the star come out!”

 

“I was talking to Cobra, Ghoul, they’re gonna…” Black Card swallowed, “If he’s not dead already, nightfall’s when they’re gonna do it.”

 

“He’s not dead,” Green Man snapped, _“He’s not.”_

 

“Well, he’s gonna be, if we don’t pack the fuck up.” Zac said, pointing away towards the roaring sea, “There’s been a storm floating over there for ages, it’s coming tonight, that’s when they string them up.” Horseshoe gulped, not wanting to think about Andy, or anyone, being  _strung up._

 

He could see the deep gray clouds, almost black over the raging sea, they looked far away now, but they would be driving towards them soon, where they would already be over Battery City. “We load up and go.” Secret Lover said, “We save Andy… Then we go to the city.”

 

“Hayley-” Lightning began and she silenced him with a look.

 

“That’s what we set out to do, find the Scarecrow,” She wouldn’t look anyone in the eye except Lightning, “Well we know where he is now, Battery City.” She stepped forward towards the minibus that Zac had led them to, spray-painted black and silver, and got in the passenger side.

 

Green Man followed without a word.

 

Horseshoe shared a glance with Benzedrine and he could tell they were thinking the same things.

 

His golden eyes, Andy, Brightside, and the Scarecrow.

 

Horseshoe handed Black Card the gun, “I picked this up for you on the way, you can’t go in without anything to shoot.”

 

“Thanks,” Black Card smiled suddenly, “Thank you, Horseshoe.”

 

“It’s Joe, by the way,” Horseshoe leaned in, “I mean, you had my back at Smith’s, I… I trust you.”

 

Black Card smiled even wider as the group loaded into the minibus, “Nice to meet you, Joe,” He stuck his hand out and Horseshoe almost laughed at his ridiculousness.

 

“Nice to uh, meet you too, Pete,” They shook hands and Dr. Benzedrine called from the minibus.

 

“Let’s go!”

 

Black Card and Horseshoe Crab nodded at each other, and stepped onto the sides of the bus, patting the side for Zac to lift his foot off the break.

 

It got dark fast.

 

The minibus seemed to go over every bump and pothole on the way, shaking the passengers in their near silent ride to meet with the Snakes. Horseshoe sat next to Crash and they whispered back and forth, Crash voicing his fears, and Horseshoe trying not to give into them.

 

“I don’t want to actually hurt these people… But they… They don’t see what they’re doing as wrong, it’s the only thing they’ve ever done, right?”

 

“They still kill people, there isn’t any way around that,” Horseshoe insisted, “They hurt and destroy lives, they might be people and they might have their own way-”

 

“I just want everyone to be okay, you know?” Crash said, looking towards the front of the minibus, where the only source of light was quickly becoming the bright headlights. Beaded necklaces hung from the rearview mirror, swinging back and forth with every bump in the road. Horseshoe could see Secret Lover’s grim silhouette, glowing in the bright light. “Hayley, she… She’s like a little sister, but I don’t want her to be doing stuff like this, I know she can but- But it’s so scary she’s _sixteen,_ and Ben Barlow? Even younger, I just want them to be okay, I just want to be able to protect them.”

 

Horseshoe nodded, “Dr. Benzedrine is young too-”

 

“He’s always been old though, you know, I’m such a hypocrite for saying it but he-” Crash stopped, giving a look that meant he was hiding something, “He basically  _came back from the dead_ , Horseshoe, and he’s different… All of us are, you don’t see stuff like what happened in Zone Five and come back the same, but Benzedrine is different altogether-”

 

“The yellow eyes?”

 

“You saw them too?”

 

“At Hyper Thrust, and before that, and his voice-”

 

“I heard, thought I was hallucinating… He’s still… Still Patrick, but-”

 

“I never knew him before…" Horseshoe looked over at Dr. Benzedrine and Black Card, they weren’t talking, but they weren’t silent either, speaking with looks and nods. “But he’s a good man, he’s not-”

 

“Of course not, Patrick can’t… I can’t ever see him like that but he’s different, and so is Secret Lover, darker, older, that was their home, it was mine too, but Lightning and I left-”

 

“We’re coming up close.” Fun Ghoul interjected almost lazily.

 

“It’s my fault, Zone Five is my fault,” Crash said, more to himself than Horseshoe, “I have to pay for that.”

 

Zac pulled the car in so close Horseshoe was afraid they might be heard, and Fun Ghoul packed his vest full of the explosives, hanging them off clips and stuffing them in his pockets, “Alright,” Zac said, whispering, “Storm starts soon-” He halted when a light flashed on within the group of ramshackle houses. It flickered and smoke began to reach for the sky, “They’re starting.”

 

“Do you know where they’re keeping him?” Green Man asked, his eyes wide and reflecting the orange of the fire. “A building, a… a cell?” Zac shook his head.

 

“I’ve never actually been in, they work underground sometimes but-”

 

“Your friend’s gonna be dead,” Fun Ghoul slid the door open and Black Card copied him on the other side,  “Let’s go.”

 

“Wait!” Lightning hissed but Black Card and Green Man already followed Fun Ghoul’s example, “Damnit!” He followed and Zac pushed open his own door. Dr. Benzedrine and Horseshoe followed fast after Secret Lover and Crash followed suite.

 

“We’re gonna get ourselves killed-”

 

A yell.

 

In the distance and the group stopped, bracing themselves in silence.

 

 _“Stop!”_ The yell came clearer, _“Stop! Please!”_

 

 _“It’s Andy!”_ Green Man whispered, hoarse.

 

Two more voices rose, tangled and knotted with the other as a low drone formed under the noise. Thunder boomed overhead and Andy yelled again, _“Stop!”_

 

Green Man and Black Card sprinted together towards the village and Fun Ghoul went in a wide arc around, Horseshoe and the rest had no choice but to follow, ignoring Lightning’s calls for a strategy. Zac talked over the sudden sprinkle of rain.

 

“Don’t leave them bleeding, they get up and the don’t stop-” Thunder boomed again and the rain came harder, “-They keep going, they’re like a hive mind, what you saw at Settlement Four, they travel in packs but they always answer to someone higher-” He stopped abruptly as they backed against a building.

 

Horseshoe saw Fun Ghoul as he darted in between buildings, closer and closer to the fire, the chanting drone was louder now, almost drowning out Andy and the other screams.

 

What he saw next, Horseshoe would think about until the day he died.

 

It wasn’t scary, not in the way he had been imagining, a cult sacrifice is done with terrifying contraptions and rituals out of a pre-war movie.

 

It wasn’t anything close to that.

 

There was a fire, illuminating tattooed faces and dirty smiles. The came up the side of a small hill, the fire at the top. A woman stood there, gaunt and hungry-looking, her face stretched into something awful and fake. She held a long, almost spear-like weapon in one hand and waved it as lightning struck and thunder boomed. The group moved in hypnotized unison, humming a chant under their breaths that sent shivers down Horseshoe’s spine.

 

It was haunting and almost ancient and it froze him to his core.

 

He could see Green Man and Black Card on the other side of the street, Fun Ghoul almost hungrily preparing a bomb. Horseshoe began to shake his head at them, _no, no, stop, we can’t- Can’t what?_   

 

Andy appeared and Horseshoe’s vision tunneled.

 

He was skinnier than the last time they had seen him, his face had stubble and he’d had his clothes taken, save for his pants which hung off of him like they had been stretched and pulled.

 

The tattoo on his chest seemed to glow, a hideous snake that wrapped around his torso, it’s teeth bared and ready to eat his heart. He was kicked to his knees and he screamed. Horseshoe steadied his ray gun, pointing at the woman.

 

“Wait-” Lightning grabbed his arm, “Just-”

 

Fun Ghoul threw a small ball into the air over the crowd, and it exploded into a cloud of flame.

 

* * *

 

 

The shock lasted only a second, a second that Green Man took for his own, sprinting into the crowd and shooting wildly, taking down four or five of the Snakes before three more took their places. Black Card was next to him, quickly trying to orient himself with his new gun. Horseshoe and Lightning had disappeared into the crowd, trying to make their way up to the hill with the woman and Andy.

 

The rain began to pour down faster and the Green Man found himself soaked, trying to dodge away from grabbing tattooed hands. His ray gun became his only source of the light, the seams lighting up with every shot. Black Card was pushed away and Fun Ghoul’s bomb had left burning shrapnel in its wake. The fire on the hill refused to dampen and he could see Andy, standing on bare feet, yelling angrily, his hands were tied behind his back and he stood in front of two boys, clutching each other so tightly they seemed to be molded together in the dim light.

 

Zac and Secret Lover appeared briefly in front of him, standing back to back. Secret Lover appeared unhinged, her face twisted in fury while Zac had the supernatural calm of a Secret Police, his conditioning as a volunteer Drac kicking in.

 

Green Man, meanwhile, saved his ammo, grabbing Snakes by the throat and wrestling them to the ground while trying to find his through the crowd.

 

“Don’t hesitate!” Fun Ghoul whipped past him, shoving his fist into one Snake’s face and hollering in excitement, his vest, laden with explosives didn’t seem to weigh him down. Another explosion went off by a building, sending it to the ground. A scream went up and Green Man took a deep breath.

 

Push, pull the trigger, kick them while they’re down, choke, drag-

 

A scream again? Benzedrine-

 

Rammed into-

 

Push back, pull, kick- Wrestle them down-

 

“Green Man!” Horseshoe pulls his sleeve, “Andy’s free!”

 

Green Man looked up to see Andy’s face contort in anger and curl his fists-

 

Something collided with the side of his head and Horseshoe was pulled away as he fell to the ground.

 

Kindergarten. Milwaukee.

 

The sky seemed perpetually gray, the lawns were yellow and dying.

 

He had been punched in the head and Andy had appeared, _“You don’t touch him! He wasn’t doing anything!”_

 

“Green Man!” Black Card pulled him up, “Come on! We gotta get up there!” The crowd had spread into individual pockets of chaos, “He’ll lose! He’s strong but-” The trip and Green Man regained his bearings, “-She’ll kill him! Ghoul’s got ‘em distracted and Benzedrine he-” He halted, at a loss for words.

 

“Your gun!” Green Man pointed, “Here-”

 

Black Card was already taking as they stumbled along, one shot went wide and Andy faltered, looking behind and almost lighting up, in happiness and fear. The woman swiped with her knife and Green Man yelled, “No!”

 

The two people behind him leaped out and grabbed her, screeching to the ground, moving in unison as they dragged her to her feet.

 

This time, halfway up the hill, Black Card’s shot went true, the light exploding against her neck and the two boys pushed her down the hill together, their snake tattoos shining in the flash of lightning.

 

Green Man was hugging Andy before they could say anything.

 

Andy was crying, fat, hot tears that he could feel through his shirt as they landed on his shoulder. Black Card laughed hysterically and the two boys yelled at the same time, “Come on!”

 

* * *

 

 

Patrick felt like he was floating.

 

He was in the middle, Dr. Benzedrine not quite there and at the same time, he added to Patrick’s strength. His aim was perfect, he was faster, stronger, and deep down, he was terrified.

 

Black Card had seen him and ran.

 

He wanted to stop.

 

The Snake’s ran from him.

 

Destroya he wanted to stop.

 

Finally, he watched Green Man and Black Card make their way up the hill, the woman tumbled down, dead, and they stumbled after her, ignoring her limp body sprawled on the ground.

 

Zac had been right, the Snakes would not stop, even as they became afraid of him, they ran back, again and again, limping and screaming at him in the name of the Earth-Eater. Crash ran past him, then turned back when he finally fell to his knees: “Patrick! Patrick! There’s a car lot! They got to the minibus! We have to-” Lightning flashed and he stumbled back, “Patrick…”

 

Patrick squeezed his palms over his eyes he wanted to stop he wanted to stophewantedtostop-

 

“Benzie!” Fun Ghoul grabbed his shoulder, “Zac’s getting us back, the car-” He pulled him up and dragged him behind with Crash, a crowd of Snake’s pushing to get to them the fastest. Patrick gained his footing and ran next to them, grabbing Lightning as he was locked in a fist fight and they caught up to Green Man and Andy and Black Card-

 

“They won’t stop!” Zac yelled and pointed to the nearest car, a spray-painted pre-war vehicle that was rusting around the edges, “Stuff yourselves in the back-” He whipped his head around to look back at the crowd.

 

They had gotten an almost supernatural amount of distance away from them, Patrick rejoiced and thanked Destroya, praying they had enough time-

 

“They’ll keep coming,” The ear scratching click of a Helium Wars automatic.

 

Andy coughed, “Disashi-”

 

“Shut up, rat.”

 

Disashi had come from behind the car, “They’ll regroup fast, and they'll be on top of you, they’ll tear you apart right here, without the fire and the sacrifice and give you to the Earth Eater-”

 

Andy pushed forward and grabbed Disashi around the collar, pushing him against the rusty car, “You-”

 

“Careful, rat,” Disashi pushed the gun against his chin and Green Man yelled:  
  
“Andy!”

 

“You move an inch and I blow his head to pieces.”

 

“You- You brought me here!” Andy shouted, “Made them put this-”

 

“So you’re all done with the pills?” Disashi looked past his shoulder, “Too bad the twins didn’t get any better.” Patrick looked over at two boys, standing so close to the other they seemed glued there, “Looks like our friends are getting close.”

 

“You’re one of them!” Zac hissed, “Why do you-”

 

“I am not-” Disashi pushed Andy to the ground, “They will kill you-”

 

“Get in the car.” Crash stepped forward. “You let them in the car.”

 

Disashi went wide eyed.

 

Crash had taken a bomb from Fun Ghoul’s vest.

 

“Okay… Okay,” Disashi stepped back and Zac pushed past him.

 

“Get the fuck in!”

 

The Snakes had formed a mob, practically sprinting to get to them and Patrick didn’t think twice before flying into the backseat, “No!” Lightning and Secret Lover had stopped.

 

Crash had pulled the pin from the bomb.

 

Get the fuck in!” He yelled, looking back at the mob, “I Can stop them.”

 

Secret Lover screamed at him.

 

They piled into the car, Disashi had run.

 

“NO! NO, FUCK YOU! YOU CAN’T JEREMY YOU-” Lightning grabbed her around the middle as she screamed, practically throwing her in the backseat while the rest of them were piled onto each other, sitting on laps and holding tight to the leather seats, ‘JEREMY! JEREMY! GET IN THE CAR! JEREMY!” Secret Lover screamed. Patrick felt his face grow white hot, his tears came fast and never ending and Zac hit the gas as the Snakes caught up, throwing themselves onto Crash-

 

Jeremy.

 

Patrick looked out the back windshield.

 

For a second, Jeremy was immovable, a solid rock, unblinking and calm.

 

Then he fell to the ground, his face lighting up in fear and desperation.

 

The sound came before he saw the blast, and he looked away as the world turned orange and bright. Secret Lover begged, wordlessly, and screamed, crawling to the back to see Jeremy find peace in a ball of fire.

 

_“I go to seek a Great Perhaps.”_

_―_ _François Rabelais_


	20. Listen

_ “God has mercifully ordered that the human brain works slowly; first the blow, hours afterwards the bruise.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Walter de la Mare _ _ ,  _ _ The Return _

 

The ride back was silent.

 

Pressing.

 

Suffocating.

 

Pete was squished in next to Lightning in the old car, it felt wrong to think of it as funny, squeezed in the car like Dracs in a transport truck.

 

He wanted to sleep.

 

He wanted Dr. Benzedrine to stop crying.

 

He wanted Andy to be okay.

 

He wanted Crash to be alive.

 

He couldn’t get the noise out of his head. The explosion, a rib shaking boom and hot fire. The car made him sweat, too many people in too small a space, it made his lungs tight and his fingers curl. He wanted to say something, scream, shout something that would make it okay, make Secret Lover stop  _ sobbing _ -

 

Andy grabbed his hand, they were both shining with sweat and fatigue, the snake on his chest swam in Pete’s vision. “Thank you,” Andy whispered, “Thank you, thank you, Pete-”

 

Andy was smiling.

 

He was smiling, _ he was happy _ , fuck- Pete put his head between his hands and squeezed- Just breath.

 

Just breath, in, out, in, out-

 

It was Dr. Benzedrine, Patrick- “In, out, in, out, you’re- we’re gonna be okay,” He was whispering it into Pete’s ear, somehow pushing everything to the side, “Andy is safe, we’re gonna be okay, just breath, in and out-”

 

“You saved me,” Andy was crying, tears of sadness, tears of joy, “You saved me, and my friends, I knew you would come-”

 

“In and out...In...and out, we’re okay, you’re okay…”

 

Pressing.

 

“In...out...in...out….”

 

Suffocating.

 

Sleeping.

 

A flash of heat and a sinking cold.

 

He was wrapped in darkness-

 

**_good_ **

 

**_very good_ **

 

The flash of a gruesome smile and blank, black eyes, a stabbing pain in his side-

 

**_I hope you can…_ **

 

**_I hope_ ** **we** **_can continue on_ **

 

His breathing was heavy, he was caked in blood and dirt, “Please, please come back-!”

 

**_you think I’m leaving._ ** ****_  
  
_

A swirl of shadows and freezing cold, The Sandman’s cape wrapped around his body, brushing his face and brushing his hair. Their faces were close, Sandman’s lips next to Pete’s ear.

 

**_never._ **

 

The car stopped and Pete was awake.

 

They got out slowly.

 

There was yelling. Zac met G as he stepped out the driver’s side, meek and red in the face.

 

They hugged to Zac’s surprise, “You’re safe.” The sun was rising and the sky was pink and gold.”I’m just glad you’re safe, Zac.” Pete stumbled past them, staring ahead, he held Andy close and Green Man was there.

 

He was talking, loud and fast as if he could drown the sound of death out of his ears.

 

Joan.

 

“What happened?” She grabbed Lightning’s collar as he fell to his knees,  _ “What happened?” _

 

The two boys, the ones held together with an iron grip were pulled away, to the infirmary, their faces thin and gaunt in the sunrise. “Jack and Alex,” Andy said, “You saved them too…”

 

Secret Lover was a blank slate.

 

Her tears were gone.

 

She was gone in her head.

 

Dr. Benzedrine looked them all over for injuries right outside the car, once, twice, three times, in front of a spray painted spider on the hood. Four, five, six times- “Patrick, you’re bleeding-” Seven, eight- “Patrick you’re hurt!” Patrick collapsed.

 

Pete wasn’t sure who had been talking, maybe it had been him.

 

They were lead to the infirmary, Boy Friday wasn’t there, replaced instead by Secret Police named Kitty, she had joked when she said her name, trying to get Pete to smile. He kept looking at Andy as if he would disappear while sitting on his mat as his the snake on his chest was looked over by a few Police. They cleaned the tattoo with wet rags and had him rest.

 

Pete looked at his own tattoos.

 

The ones he had chosen.

 

Andy hadn’t chosen. He’d been branded.

 

That’s what shook him, what made his skin tight.

 

The ink is something you want, something you even need.

 

Travie had told that.

 

A man was dead.

 

Pete slept again.

 

He had no dreams.

 

He woke when Patrick stirred.

 

For a moment Pete listened to him breathe, he listened to the sounds of the infirmary, the groaning, and soft assurances. Patrick stood and stepped past quietly, slowly, and Pete watched him disappear into the Urgent Care tent., the heavy flaps quivering behind him.

 

Pete was silent, absently picking at the mat with his fingernails.

 

He sat up, stretching his back and wiping his tired eyes he stared for a few moments longer at the tent flaps where Patrick had gone through.

 

He stood, after a screaming match in his head, and followed.

 

It was quiet, dark.

 

Warm and cold at the same time. The sand shifted under his feet as he made his way down the aisle of beds.

 

Patrick sat by one of the beds. An old man occupied it, silver hair with wrinkled smiling eyes.

 

Pete stopped, the dim light made everything so shadowed and strange, like the atmosphere was changing his body and twisting the world into something strange. Light reflected in Patrick’s eyes.

 

Yellow.

 

But when he looked up at Pete, they were the same blue they had always been.

 

“Stardust,” Patrick nodded his head at the man, sleeping deeply, “It used to be Aladdin Sane.”

 

Pete grabbed a stool and set it across from Patrick, who almost smiled.

 

“You’re close?” Pete asked, already knowing the answer.

 

“My dad died when I was… ten.” Patrick answered, “He wasn’t a replacement, but he tried as hard as he could.” Pete nodded.

 

“My parents are in Chicago- Well, Wind City now, but… I haven’t talked to them in a while.” Pete pressed his thumb into his palm. Patrick only stared.

 

“Jeremy’s dead,” He finally said, and Pete shook at the realness of it.

 

“Yeah.” He could only say back, “Yeah.”

 

Patrick began to cry.

 

Not loud.

 

Like when Dirty had died, Pete had wept until he felt dry and parched, it was like that.

 

Seven eternities past and the old man stirred, his fingers twitching and his watering eyes cracking open.

 

Patrick wiped his eyes and Stardust slowly grabbed his hand, smiling almost drunkenly,  _ “Motorbaby…” _

 

Patrick laughed, a small bust and the quiet again, “Stardust.” He grabbed the hand back.

 

“We need to talk don’t we?”

 

Patrick nodded quickly.

 

“About…” Stardust paused, “About that hole in your head?” Pete frowned and looked up at Patrick who was unfazed, they shared a glance and Patrick sighed.

 

“Pete, I…” He looked away.

 

“The yellow eyes thing? Right?” Pete looked to Stardust.

 

“This boy,” Stardust looked to Patrick, “Should have been long dead by now.”

 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Patrick began but Pete interrupted him.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means I was shot in the head,” Patrick responded, “I was Dusted by the Scarecrow weeks ago-” He twisted to Stardust, “-The Witch, she came to me-”

 

“She comes for everyone, Patrick, rarely does she bring them back to life.”

 

“Is this because of your…” Pete frowned, not knowing what to call it.

 

“My eyes? What happened at Hyper Thrust?” Patrick finished. “No, that came after, now it’s like-It’s like there’s something on fire in my head, I can’t put it out, I can’t stop it-” Stardust grabbed his hand again.

 

“Destroya does things even I cannot tell you what they mean, Patrick, that doesn’t mean you have to let it consume you.”

 

“But why?” Patrick was close to crying for a completely different reason, “ _ Why _ would She do this to me? Bringing me back to life? I’m- I’m  _ nothing _ , why would She-”

 

“Never, never say that Patrick,” Stardust gripped his hand, “You’re not nothing, you’ve brought so many people together, you’ve saved lives-”

 

“You’re like my best friend, Trick,” Pete looked down at his hands, “Andy and… And Joe, you’ve saved us all, you’re not nothing…”

 

Stardust smiled, “Destroya gave you life for a reason, She gave you rain because She knows you’re more than what you think… This thing inside you, the golden eyes and that anger… She wants you to use it.”

 

“I… I hate it,” Patrick’s voice shook, “I hate when I can’t even control myself, it’s not even me, it’s a  _ monster _ , I hurt people-” 

 

“I know,” Stardust said softly, “There’s no getting around that, there are no answers that I can give you to help you understand why She did this to you but you’re alive, and that is what I am so thankful for.” His eyes shined, “I watched the Scarecrow end your life, I watched you fall and I watched your mother give her life… I watched her fall to you… And now I see you here in front of me, like your father, you’ve become a Killjoy, you’ve built a gang and become strong.” Patrick wiped his eyes, “I couldn’t have asked for anything more, Patrick, than what you are now.”

 

The conversation subsided into trading stories, and Stardust was quieted by the loss of Crash. The infirmary began to wake up, whispers turning to low conversations and discussions about injuries. If Pete had to guess, The Cobra and Alex were awake, the last time Pete had seen them, Cobra had gotten the bandages off of his eyes, the whites had turned a dark, bruise-like purple and spidery veins traced their way down his face. He had been in good spirits, he wasn’t completely blind, but Alex had been sitting next to him. Pete could see his smile had been faked, his eyes betrayed panic at the Cobra’s condition, he was afraid, afraid it would get worse and Cobra would become blind forever.

 

Pete had dozed off, Patrick and Stardust still talking.

 

He felt like he was underwater, his body floating, suspended in nothingness.

 

**_let me in_ **

 

Pete twisted to where the voice was coming from. Up? Down? There was no direction-

 

**_let me help him-_ **

 

A scream, so sudden it jolted both Patrick and Pete to their feet, “What-”

 

“It’s Secret Lover,” Stardust pointed to the exit and another shrill and angry shriek rose again from outside, an incomprehensible collection of fights and yells broke out. Patrick stood and looked back at Stardust, “Just go, I’ll be fine… She won’t be.”

 

Pete followed close behind Patrick, past a small line of people staring out of the infirmary in shock and confusion.

 

_ “After everything, after what he’s done-!” _ Secret Lover was screaming in G’s face, Joan was close by, holding back Lightning as he spit and shouted at two Secret Police-

 

They held Dahvie in their arms. He was laughing, almost hysterical.

 

_ “He almost killed-! Lead his cult to your doorstep!”  _ Secret and G were almost wrestling, she held his jacket in an iron fist and he had his elbow by her neck, his usually greased back hair in a tousled mess.

 

“He is a threat to this place!” He yelled back, “It isn’t safe-” Secret Lover had stepped back, her face red and eyes wild, and she slapped him, with the flat of her palm Pete could hear the sound of it echo and ricochet in his ears. Young Vein stepped out towards her and Patrick followed.

 

“Hayley-”

 

“Whoa! Whoa! Let’s not get-”

 

Secret Police had drawn their guns and Lightning ripped free from Joan, tackling one Secret Police that had been holding Dahvie, G had bent over, holding his cheek, young Vein had stepped in to help him and froze when he looked back up and Secret Lover-

 

She had brought Dahvie to the ground.

 

Pete rushed forward to grab her off of him and she straddled him around the middle, curling her fists and bringing them down again and again and again, over and over, her knuckles splitting and bruising and bleeding and Dahvie-

 

Still laughing.

 

Pete tried to grab her and she caught him in the nose and he reeled back, She was crying again, tears filled with rage and Dahvie was a bloody mess laughing and laughing and she was screaming,  _ “You killed him! You killed him! You killed him!” _

 

Pete’s vision swam and Lightning fought Patrick as he tried to intervene. He blinked furiously and tripped on his own foot. There was a glitch in the air and hand outstretched to help, “We got to stop her, she’ll kill him-” The hand was cold and hot at the same time.

 

**_allow me_ **

 

Everything blurred and stretched, squeezing him tight and compressing the air around his body and in his lungs, he couldn’t see, he could see everything, every grain of sand beneath his feet as it shifted and parted for him-

 

Secret Lover was off of Dahvie, he held her wrists and she cried and screamed and Lightning was unconscious. Zac Farro had appeared and had hit him in the back of the head and Secret Lover-

 

He felt-

 

Pete was in the infirmary, throwing up into a dirty bucket.

 

“Thank you, Pete,” Patrick was saying, “I thought she was gonna kill him… He can barely talk now but at least she didn’t kill him-”

 

“She knew what she was doing,” Pete found himself saying, “She wouldn’t have regretted it.”

 

Patrick was silent.

 

The day passed, Boy Friday came in and told him he had collapsed after restraining Secret Lover, an act Pete barely remembered, and told him it was the shock, an adrenaline rush, and then a collapse.

 

Pete didn’t believe him.

 

He slept without dreams.

 

It was dark when he woke up again, the air still tight and squeezing his head, he was dizzy.

 

The Cobra.

 

He was-

 

Pete squinted.

 

He saw nothing, he saw everything.

 

The Cobra gasped for air, convulsing silently in his bed, grabbing at his eyes and struggling to breath. Pete panicked, he thinks, tilting his head, stupid and confused, the air buzzed.

 

The Cobra kicked, desperate, dead by morning, maybe.

 

Pete blinked and crawled over to him, no one heard a sound.

 

The purple veins spread, his irises swirling with red and brown and purple, he couldn’t see, his nose bled and his mouth foamed.

 

Dead by morning? Pete panicked, he thinks so. His vision shook-

 

A hand, a wide, warm smile and Pete’s vision swam.

 

**_allow me?_ **

 

_ “And in such bliss does devastation grow.”  _

_ ―  _ _ Roshani Chokshi _ _ ,  _ _ The Star-Touched Queen _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short epilogue follows, thank you, so much for reading. Radiation Point will continue.


	21. Epilogue

 

_ There was a frustrated grunt as Ronnie hit the ground and a clang from a metal trashcan being tipped over. Ronnie wiped tears from his face. _

 

_ “God fucking dammit!” The one with cherry red hair grunted, grabbing a wrench from a table and smashing in windows. His companion in sunglasses stood over Ronnie, his expression blank. _

 

_ “We’ll find it.” He leaned down and grabbed Ronnie’s collar, “We better.” _

 

_ “Fuck,” Ronnie shook his head, “Please don’t kill me.” _

 

_ “You hurt my little brother, asshat!” The one with red hair grabbed Ronnie again and pushed him to the ground again, “You stole- I want to do more than kill you!” _

 

_ Sunglasses put his hand on his brother’s arm, “Poison, it’s still just a car.” Poison scoffed. _

 

_ “ _ Our  _ car, Kobra!” He waved a pointing finger in between them, “I practically paid for that thing in blood!”  _

 

_ “Y-You’re the brothers?!” Ronnie gasped, his leg was near busted, he wouldn’t be able to run away while they were distracted, “Kobra Kid and Party Poison?!” _ __   
  


_ Party Poison gasped, “So you have heard of us?!” _

 

_ Ronnie nodded and gulped when Party got close, “Then you know about my brother’s eyes! You can’t lie!” Ronnie choked back more tears, Kobra Kid had snakes in his eyes, that’s why he wore sunglasses, the snakes ate people who lied. A blessing from the Earth-Eater. _

 

_ “Where’s our car!’ Party Poison kicked him in the ribs and Ronnie shouted. _ __   
  


_ “I don’t know! I swear!” He watched as Kobra Kid fiddle with his glasses, “Oh fuck! I swear! I lent them to my friend, Disashi! He left, I haven’t seen him since!” Party Poison let out a frustrated groan. _

 

_ “Come on!” He swung the wrench and left a crack in the plaster of his house, “Motherfucker! We deal with shitty cults and Snake freaks and NOTHING!” He practically screeched, Kobra Kid tilted his head. _

 

_ “Hey, Jet!” He called into the house, Ronnie stared at him with wide eyes, into the black of his sunglasses, “You find anything?” _

 

_ Jet, a tall man with a high pitched voice came out of the house with a heavy looking bag, “Not anything you want,” He shrugged, “But a lot of stuff that I want.” Kobra Kid smiled thinly. _

 

_ “If you have no idea-” Party growled at Ronnie, hoisting the wrench and Ronnie jerked away. _

 

_ “Shit Please! I swear I don’t-” Ronnie’s life flashed before his eyes, “My friend! Disashi! He was gonna go home! Zone 1! Zone 1! That’s all I know!” _

 

_ Poison dropped the wrench, “Zone 1! You swear!?” He motioned to Kobra Kid. _

 

_ “Fuck! Yes! Yes, I swear!” _

 

_ “I swear to god if I have to keep driving this fucking van any longer.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments=Validation, and you can find me at sangrientojoe.tumblr.com where I am always open to answering questions, or even just talking.


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